


The Magician's Husband

by IridulcentDays (BiverbalBuncombe)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Angst, Character Death, Fantasy, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic, Magical Realism, Monsters, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-06-08 15:13:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 56,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6860239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BiverbalBuncombe/pseuds/IridulcentDays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alfred Jones does not even have the smallest amount of magic within him. He is a Mundane- those born without the ability to use magic. He is the complete opposite of his husband, Ivan Braginsky, one of the more powerful Magicians known and third in line to the Northern Throne. But when darkness lurks and burns its way towards them, the two find themselves fighting for everything they love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Aconitum napellus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Aconitum napellus: Monkshood. Danger is near_

The sun was hot against his neck despite the cold chill in the air. Spring had begun to crawl back into the world with tender green shoots shyly peaking through mud. Alfred wiped a streak of dirt across his cheek, staring at the patch of mud in front of him. He dug his fingers into the dirt, up heaving a small red sapling. Nails scrapped against the acorn seed where the roots jolted out as he bushed dirt away, contemplating the small tree. Alfred sighed and placed the young oak away into the tall grass, using his gloved thumb to make a small divot in the dirt. He couldn’t place the small tree into the weed pile, despite knowing it had been invading the pit of dirt he called his vegetable garden. 

From the corner of his blue eye, Alfred kept track of a lazy bumblebee crawling near his knee. It moved lazily, dazed by the unnatural coolness of the May morning. The wind kissed the trees softly and a few old branches clattered to the ground a few feet away. Alfred grabbed the hoe nearby and stared at his work. The garden had been purged of the skeletons from old plants and were neatly primed for a new year of tomatoes and lettuce. 

He tossed the tool over his shoulder, firmly casting it into the soft black soil and pulling it back, making a neat vein for new seedlings to rest within. A bird warbled above. The sweet acidic smell of the wet dirt made Alfred smile as he put his hands back into the soil, covering the seeds gently. 

He was nearly complete with his third row, gently spreading out seeds for dill, the plant that kept the tomato worms away, when a great gust of cool wind whirled from behind him. The scent of burnt cinnamon filled the air and Alfred turned around, pulling off his soil blackened gloves. “Welcome,” he called out and leaned against the garden fence post. 

A young man stood in the middle of the clearing, wearing a great mouse gray cloak that covered his shoulders and draped down to his knees. He wore an emerald silk hat that fanned out, shading his equally green eyes from the early morning light. He adjusted the brim and moved his brown hair from his face. “Good morning!” The man called out and walked up to Alfred, stopping a foot from the fence and took off the hat perched on his head in an elegant and sweeping bow. 

Alfred laughed, scratching at the back of his neck nervously. “Please, don’t do that Toris.”

Toris straightened, fixing his hat once again. “It’s only proper.”

“You can save that for Ivan. I’m not one of you guys so no need for the fanfare.” Alfred wiped his cheek and pointed with the handle of his hoe to the left. “I’m assuming you’re here for him anyway? He was in the house last I checked. It’s past the two apple trees.” 

“Thank you,” Toris said and turned away with a wave. He stopped, looking up at the cloudless sky. “You should come in before the sun is in its apex. It looks like it will rain.” He set down the path Alfred had pointed at. 

Alfred looked up, shading his eyes from the sun. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. A cool wind shook the budding leaves on the trees and he sighed, turning back to his garden to complete the row. A large shadow crossed the ground, catching the man’s attention again. He looked up at the sight of a woman in a periwinkle dress glided through the air on a broom. Her shadow passed over him and Alfred stilled, watching as his breath turned frosty in a sudden change of temperature. It was as though winter itself had cast its grim eye on him. He watched a trail of frost appear on the ground, beginning to melt instantly as the shadow left and the May sun touched the ground again. The woman looked back, did not wave, and disappeared among the tree line as she followed in the same direction Toris had walked towards. 

Alfred continued to look at the tree line, suddenly lost in thought. _She’s here. That’s not good._ Alfred quickly covered the seeds with dirt, deciding to finish early and began to pack his equipment, brushing the dirt off of the spade and blade of the hoe with his dirt stained thumb. A songbird warbled in the distance, and Alfred gazed at the vegetable garden as he made a list in his mind of what to do next. _Till the earth over by the south edge, finish planting, weed out the herb garden, check for pests._ His thoughts came to a halt when he saw a blackened branch. 

Alfred put his gear down, and knelt down by the plant. It was a raspberry bush with it’s leaves still unfurling, its red stalks and thorns curled out messily. Alfred put his glove on to take a closer look at the branch that should have had bright green buds appearing. Instead it was blackened and tough. It didn’t look to be blight, or a pest that he knew of. Alfred hummed, took a pocketknife from the back pocket of his jeans and cut the dead branch away. He threw it into his gear pack. He would take a look at it later that evening. 

Again the smell of burnt cinnamon filled the air with a gust of cool wind. Alfred closed the gate of the vegetable garden, his gear in his left hand, as he turned to the newest visitor who was dusting off his deep royal blue cloak. 

“Arthur!” Alfred called out, recognizing the visitor immediately. “What's up?”

Arthur frowned, straightening his cape and making sure the black book that had been tucked under his arm was unharmed. “Why the hell is this circle so far from the house?”

Alfred smiled. His English accent always sounded hilarious when the man was flustered. Alfred stopped right before the edge of the circle Arthur stood in, careful to not disturb any of the smooth white rocks that marked it. “Ivan said he didn’t like the old one being in the garden behind the bedroom wall. I’ll walk you to the house.”

Arthur huffed. “It doesn’t matter where it is seeing how many defensive spells and wards he’s placed around this place. He’d know in a instant if someone were forcing their way in.” Arthur’s verdant gaze sized Alfred up. “They don’t make you uncomfortable? Sick even?”

Alfred looked at Arthur in surprise. “Is it supposed to?”

Arthur rubbed his thumb across the spine of the black book. Unreadable words lined the spine in glistening gold ink. “Most Mundanes wouldn’t notice from just passing through, but most would feel anxious or physically ill after a long enough period of time.” Arthur shrugged his shoulders as the path turned, leading them out of the shelter of the trees and to the dirt path that curved around the hill and lead to the house. “Then again, I don’t think you’re a normal Mundane.”

Alfred shrugged and looked up to the blue sky, feeling Arthur’s sharp gaze resting on him. “Listen. I’m a normal as they come. Not even an ounce of magic in this pinky! Besides, don’t you think after all this time, someone would have noticed if I had even a bit of talent in me?” Alfred gave a how whistle “Sure would make my life easier.”

Arthur finally broke his gaze turning back to the path. “Yes, well it did come as a surprise when the Prince of the North chose to marry, not only outside the royal clans mind you, but a Mundane.” Arthur chuckled, “It was one of the best moments of my life to see Court so frazzled. “

They crossed under the branches of twin apple trees and Alfred looked at the red thistle plants that now lined the path. Another ward his husband had placed after their marriage. “Is there some kind of meeting happening? I didn’t hear anything about it this morning.”

“It was very sudden,” Arthur admitted, his thick brows knitting together in thought. “I nearly missed the signal actually. I was about to head out into town to do some shopping and noticed the candle had lit.”

“I saw Toris and Natalia arrive earlier. I wonder who else is coming.” The house loomed in the distance finally, the white cottage peering over the red and green wild grasses growing wild. They shivered in the quickly cooling wind. Maybe Toris had been right. Maybe it was going to rain. 

“Natalia?” Arthur asked in surprise. 

Alfred nodded. “Yeah. Look, I have to drop this off in the shed. I’ll see you inside.”

Arthur waved his hand curtly and continued to trek up to the top of the hill. Alfred veered to the right where a squat shed sat in the distance. He walked up, opening the red hatch, and quickly put the gardening tools away. He took out the black branch, holding it gingerly in between his fingers. The thorns still looked sharp. _Maybe Ivan has a book on plant blight_ , Alfred thought. 

He turned back to the house, cutting across the path and through the wild grasses adorning the hill. He smiled at the plants. Ivan said he could hear the grasses whispering news, which was why he never cut it. Alfred never really complained since he liked seeing the shadows dance in the tall grass. He pushed his blond hair away from his eyes and looked down the hill. Another person was walking quickly up the path, a moody purple cloak billowing behind them in their haste. Alfred walked back to the path to great them. 

“Francis, good to see you again.” Alfred greeted. 

“ _Ah, Bonjour_ ,” Francis replied in French, slightly out of breath. 

“Are you- why are your legs wet?” Alfred asked, noticing the other man’s gray pants were soaked up to his knees. 

“A bad stroke of luck,” Francis admitted with a wry smile. “You see I was returning from my trip of collecting ingredients, when I noticed the signal, you see?”

“I’ll see that you get a towel,” Alfred said as they stopped in front of the house’s door. He opened the door for Francis. “Second room on the right, probably.” Alfred guessed. That’s where Ivan kept most of his important books and notes. It was also large enough to seat at least ten people. 

“ _Merci_ ,” Francis said softly and slipped inside. Alfred looked back at the hill, trying to see if anyone else had arrived. He turned back around when he confirmed the path and sky was empty. He stepped inside.

Immediately his right fingers erupted in pain. He stifled a curse, not wanting to interrupt the meeting, and stepped back outside. Alfred's thumb and forefinger were ripped open, claret blood running down his hand. He stared dumbfounded. Blood dropped to the white stone marking their entry. He looked down at the black branch lying on he ground below him. It was as though the branch had been violently yanked out of his hand. The sharp thorns had ripped into his finger easily. He looked back at his hand, cupping his good hand to catch the blood from falling and stepped inside gingerly. Nothing happened. Alfred stared at the branch again, and shut the front door firmly with his foot. 

Voices floated from down the hallway. Alfred quickly turned left, walking through a bright airy kitchen to the sink. _Goddamn raspberry bushes_ , he thought. He always pricked himself on the thorns. He turned the sink on, washing the cut out and winced at the soft burn. He kept the tap water on it, grabbing the paper towels and pressed his bleeding fingers into the wad. Alfred searched through the cabinets until he found his first aid kit. Ivan had his own in a blue metal box filled with magicked herbal salves, poultices, and tonics. Alfred couldn't use them. For some reason they never really worked for him. That, and he broke out due to an allergy to St. John’s Wort, which was a favorite of Ivan’s concoctions.

He grabbed his red kit, and pulled out a plethora of gauze, Bacitracin, and his least favorite: Hydrogen Peroxide. Alfred pulled his fingers away from the wad of paper towels and examined the gash. From what he could see, the wound was clean but deep. He took a deep breath and splashed on the peroxide. His eyes stung immediately and he bit his tongue to stop from shouting. He cleaned it once again under the water, squeezed a liberal amount of ointment on the gashes and rolled them snugly in gauze. 

Admiring his handiwork, Alfred put the items away and rinsed the sink, making sure that his blood was not staining the porcelain. He walked out of the airy kitchen and down the hall, stopping to grab a towel as he had promised. He stopped outside of Ivan’s study, listening to the muted voice inside. The door opened and Alfred stepped in through the doorway, walking to Francis and handing him the towel who took it with a nod of thanks. Arthur, who was seated on a dark blue settee in the back corner of the room rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the speaker. 

Alfred stepped into the back of the room, passing both Natalia and another woman he didn’t recognize. Ivan gave him a curt nod as he settled into the dark corner, and shut the door with a small wave of his fingers. 

“Now then, back to what I was saying.” Ivan pointed to a tome in his hand, cool violet eyes narrowing. “I have received that there have been several mutilations of animals found in the western woods, as Natalia told us moments ago.” Ivan turned, the book levitating by his side as he took a piece of chalk to mark the map behind him. He marked six white X’s. “And now, I have learned that four Grims were killed along these southern hills, from Francis.” He marked two spots on the map. Ivan sighed. “As you know, the death of one Grim would be unsettling. But four…”

“It is unprecedented,” Arthur cut in. 

Ivan nodded stiffly. “Are there any other abnormal sightings, I should know?” Alfred studied the map intently, listening as his husband continued on, his Russian accent growing thicker in agitation. 

“I don't like to say things without verifying the rumors, but” The young woman Alfred didn't recognize trailed off, frown affixed to her lips.She was lithe, with pale hair and wore a deep burgundy dress. “In light of this information, I have heard reports of something evil lurking in crags and mountains near me.” 

Evil how?” Francis asked.

“I think from the description…” she paused again. “I think it is a Blackened.”

There was silence in the room. Alfred looked at their faces, unsure of what that was supposed to mean. His eyes fixed finally to Ivan, who was looking at the woman, his expression cryptic.

“A Blackened? Are you sure?”

“No,” She admitted. “But, with the death of the Grims…and all the fires…”

Silence fell into the room again, and Ivan motioned for the woman to come closer. They turned to the map, and fell into a quiet rapid discussion. Alfred could see the tension in his husband’s broad shoulders. 

Alfred walked to where Arthur sat in the back corner of the room, keeping his bandaged hand tucked under his arm and out of sight. “What the hell is a blackened?” he asked quietly. 

Arthur looked up, “You don’t know?” 

This seemed to catch Francis’ attention as well, who was leaning against the wall by the window. “Why would he?” Francis replied. When this brought Arthur’s sharp gaze against him he shrugged. “It is not part of their lore, and it is not something we would talk about it casual conversation.”

“What do you mean?” Alfred asked.

“A Blackened is a corrupted spirit.” Arthur said, turning away from Francis with a look of disdain. “It destroys everything, without reason. It’s malicious. It ruins the harmony of life and death and eradicates all in its path.”

Well, that sounded bad. “So, it’s pretty bad.”

Francis nodded and Arthur stifled a puff of laughter. “To say the least. But really, it’s the thing of legends and myth. I have never heard of actual sightings of this creature.” Arthur opened the black book in his lap. “I’ve never even read anything about it. I’ve only heard stories. She must have jumped to the first thing in her mind, but that’ not always correct."

Alfred kept his gaze on Ivan’s back mulling the information in his mind. “And if she is right?”

“Hope she is not. A Blackened is the destroyer of worlds.” Francis said solemnly.


	2. Ilex opaca

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note tags have been updated as I have fleshed out this story more. 
> 
> _Ilex opaca: American Holly. Defense_

It was nearly evening and the sky was flush with the promise of stars and the pale light of day hung low on the horizon, bitter red in reluctance to leave. Alfred turned on the porch light, watching pale brown moths flutter in the light. He closed the screen door behind him, looking out at the first bright star in the sky. “Have a safe trip home,” he said as he leaned back against the house.

Arthur waved his hand lazily, not bothering to look back as he stepped onto the dirt path down to the garden. “The beauty of magic is that I won’t have far to go.” Inside the house Alfred could hear the subtle clanging of pots and knew Ivan had started dinner.

“You sure you don’t want to stay for dinner? Ivan kept you here pretty late.”

Arthur shook his head, turning around to face Alfred fully. The deep indigo of twilight already began to blend him in with the dark foliage around them. “No, no. I have a hearty meal waiting for me at home. I wouldn’t want to let it go to waste. I’ll bring you some the next time I see you.”

“No!” Came Ivan’s voice from the kitchen.

Alfred himself was waving the offer down quickly. “No, uh, we’re okay. Thank you, Arthur.”

Arthur sniffed, stuffing the book he held under his left arm. “Suit yourself. I’ll see you soon Alfred.” And with that he briskly strut down the path, cloak gently fluttering behind him. 

Alfred waited until he couldn’t see Arthur’s silhouette against the trees and turned to go back inside, shutting and locking the front door behind him. He set the deadbolt and padded into the kitchen, taking a deep breath now that all Ivan’s advisors had finally left. He felt tired. With a small yawn, Alfred walked over to where Ivan was cooking, briefly looking up as he heard a bowl clatter heavily on the counter top. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t just see that bowl flying in the air since I know we agreed to no magic when it comes to food.”

Ivan looked away from the stove where it looked like a pot of rice was simmering away. His violet eyes fell onto Alfred, his lips quirked into a thin wry smile. “Never.”

“Yeah, okay,” Alfred said with a roll of his eyes.

“Well, I may have taken advantage to your eyes being out of this house.” Ivan admitted as he turned to the pan in his hand. He threw in the broccoli that Alfred suspected he had chopped a little too fast to do on his own.

Shaking his head, Alfred picked up dinner plates and set them on the modest wood table in the corner of the room. “Ah, now that makes more sense. I don’t have to remind you of that time the spaghetti exploded.”

“That wasn’t because of magic,” Ivan retorted, waving the wood spoon in his hand with and aggravated thrust.

Alfred snorted, sitting down at the table and rested his chin in his palm. “Okay, Star Eyes, look up. There’s still spaghetti on the ceiling. After all these months.” They both looked up, where the faint shadow of the starchy explosion had marked the ceiling. Alfred had painted over it, after being unable to scrape the mess away.

Ivan stirred absentmindedly at the pan with the broccoli, trying to stop the minced garlic from burning. “It could have been worse.”

“We had to throw out the pot. It smelled like burnt fish and kept belching out a noxious blue smoke for a week.”

“It could have been worse,” Ivan repeated and smiled at Alfred’s groan.

“How long is dinner going to be?” Alfred asked as he leaned back in the chair.

“About twenty minutes. The rice needs to finish and the chicken is still cooking in the oven.”

“Great. I’m gonna call Mattie, and then over dinner I want to hear what the hell is going on.” Alfred stood up, grabbing his cell phone off of the kitchen countertop. He saw Ivan’s brow furrow in though and he leaned over, nearly on his toes to kiss his cheek. “I’ll be outside.” Ivan gave a pleased hum in response and Alfred unlocked the door, stepping out into the deep indigo of early night. The amber light of the porch had lured in several moths and mosquitoes, and he moved away to the darker corner where a squat bench stood. He dialed his brother’s number, keeping his eyes trained on the darkness around him.

It took four rings before Matthew picked up, sounding as though he were out of breath. “Hello?”

“Hey Matt.”

“Hey, Al.”

Alfred watched the dark shadow of a bird dart into the trees. The croaking bellow of frogs could be heard singing dichotomously around him. “It’s another day in frog paradise,” Alfred complained.

The tinny connection of the cell phone became static as Matthew snorted his laughter. “Loving the rural living, huh?”

“It’s taking time to get used to. The most we ever had were some pissed off cats or maybe an eager raccoon.” Alfred jumped at little at the sound of a screech. It was distant, and he knew it was only an owl, but it was still fucking creepy to hear. “But I like it too.”

Matt only hummed in response. They fell silent. He could feel the weight on the pause lying heavily on his chest. Ever since Alfred had married Ivan and moved, there had been an un-mended rift between the two of them. Alfred rubbed tiredly and his cheek and asked, “So how come you’re out of breath?”

“Oh, I met this girl at work and she took me to one of her exercise classes.”

“And?”

“It wasn’t yoga like I thought. It was Krav Maga. It might have taken a little more energy than normal to get off the couch to grab the phone.”

Alfred laughed at that. “She’s worth it then?” His brother was the laziest fit person he had ever met.

“Fuck, no. I just wanted to make friends anyway. There’s another girl who works next to me who does slam poetry nights.”

“Which is worse?”

“Hell if I know.”

Alfred laughed again, smiling at hearing his brother’s chuckle over the phone. He kept staring out at the darkness in front of him. He could barely see the edges of the trees. In the darkness a branch snapped. Probably a deer. “Glad to hear everything’s all right. I want to come see you soon. I know you just moved.” Because there was no way Matthew would ever come here see him and Ivan willingly. There was a deep animosity between Ivan and Matthew, although they had only met twice. Ivan was convinced that Matthew was trying to sabotage their relationship and Matthew thought Ivan was manipulating Alfred like some kind of cult leader. “I think Ivan’s going to be pretty busy, so I thought it’s be good to see my bro again.”

There was a moment of silence, then “Yeah. That’d be great. I’ll let you know if I can take off work. I’ll show you around Montreal.”

“Great. I’ll talk to you soon, Matt.”

“Latter, Al. And you’re still a bastard.”

“The finest. Night, Matt.”

Alfred stood up as he hung up the phone. He walked towards the steps, leaning against the column and staring at the stars. They were so much brighter out here, away from the city lights. You could see the Milky Way clearly on cloudless nights. The clatter of the pot in the sink brought his eyes away from the heavens and he walked back inside, closing the door and affixing the locks.

“How’s your brother?” Ivan asked as he took the chicken out from the oven.

Alfred snorted. “Like you care.”

“I care if you care.”

“That’s sweet, but also wrong.” Alfred sat down at the table again, wishing he had a beer suddenly.

“I do care, “ Ivan protested. The syllables were thick and heavy. His accent was always more pronounced when he was agitated. He turned off the oven and leaned on the counter. Violet eyes met electric blue. Ivan frowned. “What did you do to your hand?”

“What?”

Alfred looked down at the gauze encircling his thumb and forefinger, wiggling them in thought. They stung with the movement. “Oh, I got cut on a raspberry branch.”

“You pricked your finger and had to cover them like that?” Ivan questioned, shutting off the burners to the stove and walked over, taking Alfred’s hand in his own. His eyes were narrowed in thought, and all Alfred wanted to do was to brush the soft blond hair away from his forehead.

“No,” Alfred said with a shake of his head. “It was bizarre-“ he stopped, interrupted by the sudden clattering coming across the room. Ivan turned and Alfred had a clear view of the midnight blue bag sitting in an alcove across the room. A white candle was lit, the flame an eerie copper green.

“Damn,” Ivan muttered and stalked over, pouring the contents of the bag onto the wood alcove shelf. Bones with silver etched sigils shivered and snapped into their place on the wood, spelling out their message. Alfred stood, peering over Ivan’s shoulder. It meant nothing to him, but Ivan’s shoulders tensed as he gleaned out the meaning. He turned to Alfred, snuffing the fire with his fingers without looking at the candle. A red flame took its place as he turned away. “I have to go. There has been an attack near Lilli and she’s asking for help.”

Alfred thought of the younger woman in attendance earlier, the one who had warned of rumors of a Blackened. A sliver of ice began to form at his core. “You have to go.” Alfred repeated, although it was more of an affirmation to himself. Ivan was a leader, and he had to respond. Even if Alfred really didn’t understand the dangers, he knew the response of those around him gave him a right to be nervous. Alfred began to walk towards their bedroom. “I’ll grab your cloak.”

There was a clatter of cabinet doors as Ivan searched for his med kit. Alfred stopped in their bedroom, pulling open the closet doors and pulled down a deep midnight blue cloak. The inside lining was embroidered with silver sigils, spells cast for protection by Ivan’s sisters. He didn’t touch the thread, but looked at them carefully. Ivan had once explained what each sigil meant, how they helped him and warded away curses. Alfred gathered the fabric in his hands and walked back to the kitchen.

Ivan had already gotten ready. He was holstering a dagger with a wicked black blade and looked up. He took the cloak with a nod of thanks and fastened it around his shoulders. Ivan was putting the med kit into a pack hanging by his side as Alfred began to list off what he needed.

“You’ve got the first aid kit, that’s good. Do you have your cell phone?”

Ivan didn’t look up from his administrations of securing the kit. “No.”

Alfred sighed. “Where is it?”

“I think it is in the den.”

“I’ll grab it.” Alfred walked out of the kitchen, and down to the dark den. “Because you’re sure as hell not leaving without it!” He admonished from afar.

He didn’t bother to turn on the lights, walking around the furniture with practiced ease. He simply took his own phone from his pocket and dialed Ivan’s number. The phone lit up in the corner, looking as though it were stuck under a stack of papers. Alfred let out a growl of annoyance and began to move the papers away. Ivan hated the phone, but it was the one thing that Alfred was adamant he have on him when he was away. It was true that the electronics and magic seemed to be incompatible with each other. Alfred’s own phone would sometimes fizz out when Ivan was heavily experimenting with magic in the den. Whenever this happened Ivan was always sure to point it out and comment on how useless the thing was. Alfred always had to point out, to his absolutely brilliant husband, that he was a Mundane and couldn’t use magic to contact him.

Alfred glanced out the window, looking at the dark woods. The moon was bright, but in it’s third quarter and cast thick shadows everywhere. He finally found the phone and checked to make sure it was charged. 75 percent. Better than nothing. Something moved out of the corner of his eye and Alfred glanced back outside. There was nothing but the rustling of trees in a weak breeze. He turned and walked out, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Ivan was ready when he met him in the foyer. He took the cell phone with a grimace, stowing it away in his jacket pocket. “You remember the alarms for the wards?” He questioned.

Alfred folded his arms, lightly annoyed. “The iron chimes are if someone breaks the perimeter, the bone chimes by the will rattle if someone gets near the house, and the fox skull by the fireplace will start to scream if someone’s in the house.” Alfred rolled his eyes. “I’ll be fine, Ivan. You’re always like this when you go. Nothing ever happens. And it’s not like I can’t take care of myself.”

Ivan muttered something in Russian, clearly annoyed. Alfred softened his stance and shook his head. “I’ll be fine. Get out of here.” Alfred gave him a small punch on his shoulder walking him to the back door of the house. “Go ahead, Star Eyes, I’ll be waiting.”

Ivan bent down, kissing him quickly on the lips. Alfred wanted to grab him, draw him in and stop him from going. Instead he pulled back with a smile and a wave. “Stay safe,” Ivan said and stalked out into the night, disappearing past the light of the house and into the shade of the trees. A gust of wind brushed past Alfred’s cheeks and the smell of burnt cinnamon filled the spring night air. He shut the door, locking it and turned to the silent house.

“Fuck.”

The house remained silent and Alfred walked to the kitchen, plating his dinner alone. The chicken was cool by now, but the rice in the pot was still warm if not a little overdone. He sat at the table, looking out the window. The woods seemed a little darker now. He began to eat, fork and knife clattering against the plate and he thought about Ivan’s cloak.

It had been a wedding present by his two sisters. He had found out later it was traditionally supposed to be made by the bride to be, embroidering the sigils of protection out of love for their spouse to be and presented during their vows. But with Alfred being a Mundane, that was all pretty useless. So what if he couldn’t create spells of protection? Alfred stabbed at the chicken. Ivan wasn’t a damsel in distress. He could hold his own and then some. At least, that’s what he had heard. He’d never really seen anything in action.

When he was done eating, Alfred put the leftovers away, wrapping it tightly and putting it away in the fridge. It took him only a few minutes to wash and put away the dishes, and he took out a beer before walking to the bedroom and sat in the bed, reading a spy thriller for a few hours until the drink was gone and his eyes were heavy with sleep. He slipped out of his clothes, pulling on a pair of his college sweatpants and a t-shirt before turning off the light and drifted off to fitful sleep, worried over Ivan.

It was dark when he awoke with a start, sitting up and grabbing his glasses from the table beside him. There was a scream, a barked shriek coming from the living room. Alfred froze.

There was someone in the house.


	3. Leontopodium alpinum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Leontopodium alpinum_ : Edelweiss. Courage

The shrieking shattered the night and continued on in horrible yowling yips that froze Alfred’s blood. He glanced around the dark room, walls and furniture painted in blues and pearl from the weak moonlight that spilled in. His heart raced as he fought between quick or silent. He crawled out of the bed and glanced at the two silent chimes hanging in the window. It didn’t make sense. Ivan had said if anyone tried to get into their home, the chimes would go off one by one and continue to ring until the threat was gone. The wards were penetrated and only the fox skull was screaming the alarm. Alfred continued to stare at the still chimes and grabbed his phone, using the blue light of the screen to illuminate his path towards the bedroom door.

The screams stopped and the house plunged into silence.

Alfred could feel his heart in his throat beating painfully. He glanced away from the door and darted towards the closet, shoving his bare feet into sneakers. He lunged into the closet, shut the door, and was swallowed by hanging coats and cloaks in the darkness as he barricaded himself in hiding. He tied his shoes in the dark, fumbling for the laces and pulling them too tightly. He would have to leave the closet and run for the den. Ivan always warned him that if anything ever went wrong he needed to get into his room and stay there until help arrived. He would be safe in the den. At least, that’s what Ivan said. Slick shameful guilt rose in his chest. He had also said the chimes would warn him too, and there they hung in the window in silence.

Well, maybe that made this a false alarm. Maybe he was just over reacting. Alfred held his breath and listened. The house was still silent, and nothing but a gentle wind outside made a sound. He should be able to hear someone creeping around the house. Floorboards would pop. Doors would creak. The house wasn’t that big. Still, there was only the wind outside.

Alfred glanced down to the phone he clutched tightly in clammy hands. He tensed and opened the phone, about to dial 911. The screen went blank. What little light he had was snuffed out. _God damn it, not now,_ he pleaded silently, shaking the electronic as though that could turn it back on. He stilled, sensing something was wrong and glanced towards the minuscule crack that showed him the empty bedroom. A shadow moved across the far side of the room. The door was opening.

The door sailed open in silence, and Alfred watched a long black finger curl around the edge of the wood, prying it further open. The intruder’s shadowy mass crawled haltingly towards the center of the room, stopping in the center near the edge of the bed. Alfred covered his mouth, not daring to make a sound. He watched the long fingers stretch out, pulling the blanket on the bed taunt and down to the floor in a slithering whisper. The intruder crawled closer and into the weak moonlight.

India ink skin shone reptilian like in the light, long limbs looking as though they had been broken and stretched, then attached haphazardly. Long fingers were really wicked claws that glinted in the light. An emaciated torso rippled with muscles, stomach bowed out slightly as it breathed. The head listed to the side, seemingly in thought. Legs were abnormally wrong, not only for their length, but the fact that they were backwards, like a broken and twisted doll. 

This was not a person.

This was a creature.

This was an _It_.

It fanned out its limbs, spider like, and scuttled under the bed and out of sight. It became silent again. He listened as the mattress groaned under weight, then a ripping noise filled the room. The mattress creaked again and Alfred listened as it fell to the floor in a quiet thump. Agonizing moments later it scuttled out from under the bed, unfurling its long limbs and stood up. He breathed shallowly through his nose. His chest hurt from lack of air. He didn’t dare draw a deep breath.

The creature turned its head, finally looking at the closet door. Its mouth quivered, a long nasty gash nearly halving its head. Wide white unblinking eyes stared, but it turned away, hunched over and then collapsed to the floor. It melted back into the shadows and crawled away.

The house fell back into silence and Alfred wondered if he had imagined it. A crash came from the kitchen. Bowls and cabinet doors clattered in the kitchen. It broke the spell. The bedroom door was still open and Alfred stared it. He took a shuddered breath, his chest on fire from all the small little gasps that weren’t enough

Alfred didn’t move. He didn’t dare check his phone. Something in him was afraid if he looked down, those wide unblinking eyes would be staring at him when he looked back up. He could hear the clinking of chimes from the living room. Alfred thumbed the phone and pressed his clammy hands against his pants. He glanced down. The phone was unresponsive. His eyes darted back up. The room was empty

Alfred had to get to the den. In the closet, he couldn’t even move to defend himself. Sooner or later that thing was going to find him and he would be good as dead. The house wasn’t that big. He probably didn’t have much time left. The door to the back creaked open, shutting with a loud crack that made him jolt. It was caught in the wind, Alfred realized and listened to it slowly creak open again. He had to make a break for it. He had to trust in Ivan.

He just hoped that trust didn’t land him under that thing’s wicked claws.

He strained to hear more. Outside the wind hushed the leaves. The frogs were silent. Silence in the house. His heart beat like a bird slamming against his ribs in desperation. He could hear the creak in his bones as he clenched his hand. Silence in the house. The door cracked shut, hinges groaning as the wind pried it open again.

Glasses clinked in the kitchen.

Alfred stood up, knowing where the creature was now. He glanced around in the darkness of the closet, looking for something to defend himself. There was nothing. He grabbed a wooden clothes hanger and held it with a corner pointing out. If he lived through this he was going to buy a baseball bat. He slowly opened the closet door and moved. Feet lightly hit the bedroom floor and he crept silently to the bedroom door. The den was just down the hall, a straight shot. Alfred clasped the doorframe and glanced around the corner. He could still hear rummaging from across the house, the muffled creaks of the wood floor as something pressed against them.

Alfred ran.

He bolted through the hallway, hand outstretched as he tried to grab the door to the den. In the corner of his eye he watch the shadow move, racing towards him. He threw the hanger as he grasped the doorknob, wrenching the door open. The hanger clattered to the ground harmlessly. He’d missed. He slammed the door shut, turning only to see the thing’s white eyes mere inches from his own. Alfred slammed his body onto the door, forcing it closed enough for the lock to turn. The creature slammed back on the door, shuddering the walls. Dust and plaster sailed down, dusting Alfred in the gray mixture. A screech like steam from a kettle sliced the air, and he watched as the door shuddered with manic scratches. It was trying to claw through the door. Alfred took two steps back until he was in the center of the den. He looked up at the ceiling, where a gold painted sigil shone against the pale blue ceiling. He was safe.

The scratching stopped. Alfred was panting from both the running and the trepidation pouring through his blood. He stared at the bottom of the door. The creature moved away, allowing dim moonlight to seep though the crack.

Fuck, now what? Alfred glanced around the den. Books, papers, bottles of who knew what. None of it helped right now. Alfred stilled as soft scratching commenced again. He stared at the wall. Was it in the wall? He followed the sound with his eyes, tracing the dark walls and moving further away. It was in the walls somehow.

Alfred stared at the phone in his hand and tried it again. The screen flickered to life. It was slow. The screen glitched. At least it was on. He dialed Ivan’s number. Alfred held the phone to his ear and turned, looking again to see if there was something he could use as a weapon. There was a severe looking pole that may have once been part of a spear. The deadly tip was missing, rendering it useless. 

Alfred listened to the static of the phone, wondering briefly if it would even connect the call. 

“ _Allo_?”

“Ivan!” Alfred let out a shuddering breath that he didn’t know he was holding back. Fissures of fear were soothed by his voice. “Ivan, I need your help.”

Silence, then: “Hello? Alfred?”

Alfred’s heart sunk. “Ivan. Ivan, it’s me. Please, fuck, I don’t know what to do.”

The phone relayed static. “Alfred?”

“Ivan, please. I need you to come home.”

“Al–”

The phone went silent. Dead again. Alfred looked down at it, hesitating before shoving it into his back pocket. It wouldn’t be any use now. Alfred glanced around the dark room, listening to distant scratches as he searched for a weapon. There was a bronze letter opener on Ivan’s desk, and he snatched it, gazing at the dull blade as it twinkled in the moonlight.

The room plunged further into shadow. Alfred looked up, and turned towards the window. The creature was there, staring with bright white eyes and its slit like maw gaping open. It salivated against the windowpane, fingers scratching the glass with an ear-numbing scream.

Alfred held the letter opener up, taking a step back and opening his stance. He took a deep breath, trying to stop his heart from racing. Okay, so this literal nightmare creature was trying to kill him. So what. Alfred wasn’t exactly a child. He could protect himself. Besides, the creature didn’t seem able to get in. It continued to scratch the glass, and Alfred lowered the knife slightly when it didn’t try to break in. The creature moved and the room was filled with the pearl hue of the moonlight again. It was silent.

He jumped when the scratching came from the door again. Alfred turned, once again holding out the letter opener out. But when nothing but the scratching moved from one wall to the other, Alfred eventually lowered his hand. He cautiously sat in one of the chairs in the den, pulling it to the center of the room and away from the walls. He wished he knew what time it was. It was still dark out, without a single glimmer of sunlight. But did that matter? He didn’t even know if this creature would leave in the morning.

Exhaustion set in. Every scratch kept his nerves on edge, but there was nothing to do. His body ached from adrenalin. It didn’t seem that this thing could get into the den for whatever reason. Alfred was glad. He wished he knew if Ivan would be coming home soon or if he would be holed up in here, a prisoner for who knew how long.

There was a crashing sound, and Alfred jumped up, arm held out in defense. A muffled moan came from outside the door.

“Alfred!”

“Ivan?” Alfred lowered the knife. There was another crashing sound. The breaking of glass. 

“Alfred, don’t–” Ivan’s voice choked, cut off from the rest of the sentence. There was a loud scream of pain.

Ivan.

Alfred lunged for the door, ripping it open and stepping out into the hall. A broken mirror lay on the floor. The kitchen table and two chairs were spilled to their sides. Ivan wasn’t there.

Instead, sitting in the middle of the room, illuminated by the pale moonlight was the creature. It opened its mouth, razor sharp teeth glinting in the light.

“What–”

“Alfred, Alfred don’t!” came Ivan’s voice. Alfred watched the creature’s mouth move as his husband’s voice came out instead. Alfred’s grip tightened as he listened to the creature laugh in Ivan’s low baritone. They locked eyes.

Alfred lunged back into the den, slamming the door shut and locking it. He turned around as he listened to the wood splinter, watching the creature’s wicked claws pierce the door. The seal had been broken. The den was no longer safe.

There was nowhere left to hide.

Alfred raced to the window, opened it up and jumped through. His feet met the dewy grass and he slipped. He lost the letter opener. He shoved himself up, and began to run.

A scream came from inside the house, guttural and primal. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. He sprinted as fast as he could towards the woods. He had to get away. Alfred didn’t think he could make it to the town a few miles away. And he didn’t know where to hide. He didn’t dare look back.

Alfred tore through the tree line, ignoring the branches that scraped at his skin. He pounded down the well-known hillside, jumping over shadow drenched tree limbs and rocks. He heard a branch behind him snap and he burst past his garden, careening down the hill recklessly. He had been a cross-country runner in high school, and Alfred knew the grounds of the house well, but he knew it would only take one slip to fall or sprain his ankle and that would be it. Game over.

There was a bend in the path and Alfred took a hard left, grabbing the trunk of the tree to aid in swiveling out of sight. A group of rocks lied ahead and he dove behind them, slamming his left arm into the stony hideaway in the process.

He bit down on his tongue to stop from screaming, tasting bitter copper. Alfred shoved his face into his right arm, muffling his haggard breathing and stayed still. The only sound he could hear over the drumming of his heart was the susurration of leaves. Patches of light slipped through the trees, dimly illuminating the forest. Alfred pressed himself against the rocky outcrop, delving further into purple shadow. He held his breath.

A soft snuffing could be heard from behind. Alfred squeezed his eyes shut, praying he stayed hidden in shadow. A twig snapped and the snuffing fell silent. The wind picked up and Alfred opened his eyes again. His arm throbbed. Alfred chanced a glance behind him, limbs tense in the need to run.

The clearing was empty.

Alfred unfurled from behind the rocks, gasping as quietly as he could. Where had it gone?

He was slammed into the rocks with a powerful blow as a dark shadow crashed into him. He saw stars as his head careened into the boulder, and the creature’s hot breath ghosted over his face and neck. His glasses fell away as the creature shoved him face down into the dirt, tongue slithering and hissing hear his ear. He was dazed from the blow, and bucked in a feeble attempt to throw the creature off of him. The creature pinned him down in an iron grip, holding his head down and using Alfred’s own weight to keep his left arm under his prone form. The creature settled its weight on his chest and legs.

_Ivan._

_God. Ivan…_

Alfred cried out as the creature gashed his side with it’s wicked claws. It lowered its head, and Alfred felt it’s hot tongue lap at his skin. He realized it was drinking his blood in revulsion, nausea shooting up into his throat with bile. He was gasping, trying to writhe out from under the grip. The creature only pressed him harder into the ground stemming his breath and Alfred wondered if his bones would shatter under the unnatural strength. He felt the teeth pull at tender flesh and screamed.

The world erupted into fire.

The creature screamed in his ear, deafening Alfred, and he gasped as the weight came off his chest. He coughed with a gagging wet sound and listened to fire blaze around him. Heat flamed over his skin, hot air tugging at his hair. Alfred blearily gazed at the inferno. Everything was bathed in hot blue fire, turning white as it licked the sky. He was locked in a ring of the flames and struggled to sit up.

A hand pressed down and he flinched, moving to strike in defense as his hand was caught. He gazed at the blurry face of Arthur, green eyes nearly glowing in the firelight.

“Careful,” Arthur said and pressed Alfred down gently to the ground. He plucked Alfred’s glasses from the ground and gave them to him, helping to put them on as Alfred’s hands shook.

“The creature, “ Alfred gasped.

“Dead in a minute,” Arthur muttered, checking Alfred over for injuries. Lithe hands pressed and judged his collarbone and ribs, stopping when they slid across tacky blood down Alfred’s abdomen. Alfred groaned.

Arthur took off his cloak, wadding the fabric against Alfred’s injury. He frowned, and looked up towards the clearing.

Alfred followed his gaze and stared at Ivan, blinking against darkness that wavered on the edge of his vision. Ivan’s face was contorted in rage as he fought against the creature, his cloak billowing out in the heat of the fire. Flames seemed to dance along his fingers as he darted out of range of a deadly swipe of the creature’s claws, retaliating with a swift blow across the black creature’s chest. It gurgled, lunging towards Ivan. His husband jumped out of the deadly path, face concealed in shadow as he turned and plunged a black knife into it’s back. Ivan attacked with the fire again, and the creature arched in pain before falling to the ground. It did not move. He pulled the blade out with a squelching sound that made Alfred nauseas again, flipped the creature over and stabbed it in the neck, pinning the body to the ground with a fatal thud. Ivan left the knife in this time and turned to Alfred. His face was pale.

“He’s hurt badly.” Arthur’s voice snapped from above him. Alfred blinked against the darkness again. His vision blurred. “He needs a healer.” Ivan was now at his side, cold fingers entwining with his own. Alfred watched the blue firelight dance on his husband’s face, making his eyes glimmer in the shivering light. The rage was melting away, fear steadily taking it’s place.

He should have said, ‘ _you came back_ ’, or ‘ _I love you_ ’.

Instead, he whispered, “I’m gonna throw up.” 

And then the darkness won.


	4. Clematis vitalba

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Clematis vitalba_ : Old man’s beard. Rest

Fiery pain wrapped and curled across his abdomen, lightning hitting his side and Alfred awoke with a gasp. A shadow moved past his vision, blurred without his glasses. He writhed, instincts screaming to run. Something touched the hot skin on his side. He pulled away, sharply jutting out his arm in defense. A cool hand gripped his forearm, stopping his feeble attack. His head throbbed and he shut his eyes tightly. Nausea snaked inside his stomach, coiling into his gut. Alfred moaned, and a hand fell gingerly to his cheek.

“I am sorry, I thought you were still unconscious. I was only checking your bandages.” A pause and the unfamiliar female voice continued, “I think you pulled some stitches.”

Alfred stilled. He opened his eyes, looking to the dark ceiling above. His mouth was dry and his tongue prickled with the need for water. He tried to swallow, still looking into the darkness and gave a small gasp. It felt like gravel was stuck in the soft tissue, ripping holes further into his skin with the bob of his throat. Alfred stayed still as the hand fluttered against his side this time, the voice soft and soothing in tandem with their movements. “I am going to take a look again, please do not move.”

Soft light appeared in the corner of his eye, and Alfred shifted his head to look down. He briefly watched lithe and delicate hands flutter by, and could see a young woman’s face awash with the orange glow from an orb that floated by her right hand. The movement of turning his head brought back the screaming headache and he closed his eyes.

“I said don’t move.” the woman said, concern thick in her voice and Alfred could make out something like a German accent. There was silence, beyond the pounding of sluggish blood in Alfred’s head. “It looks to be alright. Alfred, I am going to recover this in bandages. The pressure may hurt for a moment. Okay?”

Alfred nodded, listening to the susurration of his hair against fabric. He was in a bed, he realized in delay. That thought trigged the outpouring of questions between the throbs in his brain. “Where–” he attempted, pitifully quiet.

“You are in your room,” He could feel the pressure against his side, the fire muted, but still there. A whimper of pain was caught in his throat. “Sorry,” She said. Her voice was low, regretful and sympathetic, and Alfred listened to the swish of fabric as her dress slid against the side of the bed. “It has to be snug. Almost done…” She fell silent and Alfred took a slow breath. “Ah, there. Done. I am going to get Ivan now that you are awake.”

Alfred listened to footsteps cross the wood floor and he opened his eyes to the dark room slowly this time to stop the nausea and the pounding of his head. He was in his room again. He glanced to the window, looking at the dark silhouette of wards that hung there. A sliver of icy fear lodged in between his ribs in memory. He could feel the ghost of hot breath across his skin where the wound was bandaged. Alfred stiffened, limbs locking tight and he clenched his fingers. The door opened, and for one painful second, the sight of a dark shadow in the door was too much, and fear tore any logic away. Before he could stop himself, the words tumbled out pitifully.

“No– Please.”

The shadow stopped, and the world was illuminated once again as the bedroom lights turned on and Ivan took the shadow’s place. Hot shame crept up inside Alfred immediately. Ivan was watching Alfred carefully. His violet eyes were centered on Alfred’s face, gaze wary. “Sorry,” Alfred breathed and held up a hand, lifting it only slightly before Ivan strode across the room and took his hand within his own.

“Alfred,” Ivan murmured, and settled gently on the bed. He was careful to not jostle the mattress. Ivan held Alfred’s hand to his lips, kissing the top of his hand and Alfred spread his fingers out, grazing the pad of his fingers across Ivan’s stubbed jaw before Ivan slowly brought Alfred’s hand back down to the bed. He did not relinquish his grasp. “How do you feel?” He handed Alfred his glasses that lay on the bedside table and the world once more slipped into clarity.

There was a lot more to say, but with his throat hurting, he settled on “Bad.” That of course was and understatement. His legs ached and felt like putty that had been torn and mashed back together again. His side was on fire with the burning pain, although that was slowly growing to a burning dull ache. His head throbbed and every blink and sideways glance brought a new bout of nausea from his gut into his throat. His neck hurt, his arm throbbed in pain and felt like it was broken and all of it was topped off with the exhaustion that seemed to permeate every cell and thought. It was like someone had ripped his bones open and scoped out everything, leaving only hot dry air in their wake.

Ivan was dragging his thumb across the top of Alfred’s knuckles in a butterfly soft caress. He made no move to touch Alfred anywhere else. Ivan looked horrible. Dark thumbprint shadows pooled under his eyes, leaving him pale and waxy in the low light of the bedroom. A dark bruise had blossomed across his right cheek, and was mottled yellow with healing. His hair was disheveled, mussed from carding his fingers through his hair– something he did whenever he was worried.

“You have been out for two days,” Ivan said, breaking the silence. His voice was gravely, as though the words physically hut to speak. “Dr. Morris came, he is the one who stitched up your side. He said you had a concussion and a possible bone bruise on your arm. He wants me to take you to the hospital, to confirm that your arm is not fractured. The doctor has been in every day checking on you.”

Alfred thought of the slightly portly town doctor, an older man who still made house calls. He thought of the thunderous voice and white whiskers and smiled.

“I had one of the Court healers come by as well. He was very adamant about how stitches are barbaric,” Ivan continued. Alfred frowned. “He left some medicines and a salve for you, which I think you should consider using.” He held up his hand, seeing the doubt in Alfred’s eyes. “We will talk about it later. But it is here if you want it.”

Ivan paused as the door opened and the young woman stepped in. In the light, Alfred recognized the short blonde hair and elegant face from the meeting Ivan had days ago. She carried in a tray and placed it by the bedside table, arranging the glasses and items on the tray. She smiled at Ivan and turned to Alfred. “Do you think you are able to sit up?” She asked and Alfred realized it was the same one woman who had accidentally awoken him. He nodded and went to push himself up. Immediately Ivan’s hands were there to guide and support him and he ended up leaning against the stack of pillows lined against the headboard. Lilli held out a glass of water to Alfred, and he took it with his right hand, careful to not move his left arm. He sipped at it, wanting to gulp it greedily. Both Ivan and Lilli were watching him closely. Before he could finish the glass, Lilli held out an orange pill bottle, tapping out two white pills. “The Mundane healer said that you would need to take this every eight hours. I am afraid it has been ten since you last took it. You weren’t very responsive when you were last awake and we thought it better that you sleep.”

He took the pills, swallowing it with the last of the water. Ivan plucked the empty glass out of his hand, setting it on the tray with a clatter. Lilli turned to the cup next to it. Steam rose steadily and she took a white packet that lay next to the cup and poured the contents in the water. It turned brown quickly and smelled of cardamom and ginger. “This should help your throat, Alfred. Your voice was hoarse when you spoke earlier and I think this may soothe it.” Lilli smiled, nodded to Ivan, and then walked out of the room while closing the door gently behind her.

Alfred looked at the brown water warily. “It is not from the healer, Alfred. It is only a tea.” Ivan said. He held out the cup and Alfred took it, frowning at the taste.

Ivan watched him take a few sips of the tea mixture, and to Alfred’s relief, the tea did help. It was laced with something sweet, and it helped both with the tenderness and the nausea he felt. “I was awake already?” Alfred croaked out eventually.

Ivan’s lips pitched down in concern. “Three times. Once when Dr. Morris was here, once later that night when you were in pain, and yesterday for a minute when I was away and Toris gave you your medicine.”

“I don’t remember,” Alfred said with a frown. He turned to Ivan, setting the cup down on the table and rested against the pillows. “It’s nice to see you again, Star Eyes.”

This apparently caused something to crack, because Ivan’s calm façade was gone, and his eyes were bright in the bedroom light before he looked down at the floor. “I am so sorry, Alfred.” Ivan said, his voice cracking quietly.

Alarmed, Alfred went to sit up with a jolt, and ended up frozen in a stilted gasp as his side burned again. “Shit,” he gritted out.

“Do not move,” Ivan said. He pressed down on Alfred’s shoulders and settled him back down against the bed. “You were hurt badly.”

“Thank you for getting the doctor, by the way,” Alfred said between slow breaths as he waited for the throbbing to die down. “I know you don’t like them-“

“It’s not about what I like or think.” Ivan countered. He shifted his position, putting his back to the door so he could face Alfred more. “I know you do not trust magic when it comes to your health, just as I would not trust your doctors when it comes to mine.” Alfred went to counter and Ivan held up a hand. “It is alright Alfred, you don’t have to like magic all the time.”

But it felt like a personal affront when he didn’t trust it, Alfred thought. It felt like he didn’t trust Ivan and that was the worst thing of all.

Ivan continued, “Besides, the only other healing from magic you have seen is my own and I am not good at it.”

“What?” Alfred said, and could feel a tried smile tugging at his lips. “What does that mean?”

“I focused more on fighting than on healing during lessons,” Ivan admitted and looked away. “I thought it was more important to defend than to fix what was broken.” Ivan looked down at his own hands and whispered, “And I was a fool.”

“Huh?” Alfred muttered, staring at Ivan. Ivan stayed silent and Alfred nudged him, taking his fingers and entwining them with his own when Ivan stayed unresponsive. “Ivan?”

“When I saw you hurt from the Deigol, I did not think I was ever going to breath right again. Alfred, I do not think I can handle seeing you in pain like that again. I–“ Ivan fell silent, and grasped Alfred’s right hand tightly. “I am not a strong enough person to see you like that. And there was nothing I could do when the damage was done but to look on and wait.” He lapsed into silence again. Alfred waited. “I am glad I fell into rage when I saw it, it at least let me be useful for a moment. And After…it made me wish I had studied the healing arts more, because being unable to help hurt.”

Alfred thought of the blue hellfire that had surround him and the creature lying on the forest floor with the knife staking it to the ground. “Is that what it’s called? A Deigol?” Alfred asked in a hushed voice.

Ivan nodded. “They are dark creatures who only lurk in the night looking for prey. Once they have decided to attack, the only end they will accept is either their death or their prey’s.” Ivan turned to Alfred, “Why were you outside? I do not know how it got onto the grounds, but you would have been safe in the house.”

“I wasn’t outside,” Alfred said.

“What? Of course you were.”

“Ivan,” Alfred shook his head slowly. “It was in the house.”

Ivan stilled. “Explain.”

Alfred recounted what he could remember. How the fox skull ward had sounded the alarm and had been silenced, how he had noticed the other wards hadn’t so much as chimed a warning. How he had hid, watched the creature, the deigol now he knew, scuttle through the room and how he had run into the den. “And that’s when I called you.”

“I will never complain about that thing again.”

“Cell phone, Star Eyes, do try and keep up.” Alfred teased.

Ivan looked happy for a moment, and then frowned again. “I could not hear what you were saying, but I knew you were in trouble somehow. Why did you not stay in the den? It is warded through the foundation, the stonework itself. It would have had to have been broken by you.”

Alfred fidgeted uncomfortably for a moment. He looked away and for the first time noticed the clock. “Jesus, is it 2 in the morning? Aren’t you tired?”

“ _Nyet_. It is not important, Alfred” Ivan growled. “Why did you leave the den?”

“I thought it had you.” Alfred looked down to the blanket, feeling his cheeks go red. He felt small.

“You thought it had me? Why?”

“I heard your voice, and then there was a crash and _you screamed_.” Alfred stopped. He waited until he thought his voice wouldn’t crack with emotion. It did anyway. “Ivan, I thought it was killing you. I wasn’t just going to stand there and wait.”

“It spoke in my voice?” Ivan said, repeating the information. “Alfred, are you sure?”

“Of course I am!” Alfred coughed, his throat dry again. Ivan wordlessly handed him the now cold tea. Alfred took a swig with a grimace. He handed the cup back and sighed. “Ivan, that thing was the stuff of nightmares. There was no way in hell I was going to open that door until I heard what I thought was you screaming.”

Ivan stood up and walked to the door, opening it with a jerk. Alfred listened to him speaking to someone outside the door, voice quiet and strained. Alfred looked up to the ceiling, expecting to see the deigol’s face staring back. God, he was going to have nightmares for a while, wasn’t he? He closed his eyes for a moment. He could hear Ivan turn off the lights and Alfred’s eyes snapped open.

“Don’t turn off the lights.” Alfred pleaded into the darkness.

Ivan turned the lights back on, and came back over to the bed. “Sorry, I did not think.”

“God, I feel like a kid, but…Don’t turn off the lights. Not yet.”

“Of course.” Ivan sat back on the bed and Alfred moved over, shaking off Ivan’s hand for help.

“No, I can do this. Just give me a minute.” He settled back down, and patted the bed, waiting for Ivan to lie down beside him and clutched at his arm. “God these drugs are good.”

He could feel the rumble of laughter in Ivan’s chest, and gently pressed his head closer to Ivan’s heart. Alfred let his fingers dangle across Ivan’s wrist, feeling the assuring thud of his heartbeat. Outside Alfred could hear the frogs peeping, a rhythmic lullaby from the calm night. “Who did you talk to?”

“Toris. If the deigol was speaking in my voice, it would have had to have been close enough to hear me. I asked him to put someone on the grounds for guarding. And I also asked Francis to check something.” Ivan languidly stroked his thumb across the back of Alfred’s right arm. “Then what happened?”

Alfred continued on, explaining how he had escaped through the window and took to the trees in an attempt escape, how he had tried to hide behind the rocks in a last ditch effort and was then attacked. He stopped there, not wanting to go further into how awful it had felt when the claw had cut into his skin, that tongue lapping at tender flesh and how the teeth had tore at the wound.

“How did you find me?” Alfred asked.

Ivan’s eyes were sallow and dark in the yellow lamplight. “I brought Arthur with me, so we were near the garden when we got here. I heard you scream and…when I saw that thing on you…” Ivan stopped. “I’ve never wanted to kill something so much before. And then we brought you back to the house and I called for Dr. Morris while Arthur staunched the bleeding.”

Alfred hummed. The medicine was making him tired finally. “Thank you for saving me. I don’t think I would have–“

“Do not say it.” Ivan whispered. He craned his head to kiss Alfred, hushing the words that could have been voiced. Alfred smiled when they parted and continued to rest his head against Ivan’s chest. He thought about his wounded side.

Alfred clutched at Ivan’s shirt. “Do you think it will scar?”

“Yes.” Ivan said.

“You sound pretty sure.”

“I have had experience.”

“What?” Alfred struggled to sit up at this, and Ivan sighed, stopping Alfred from moving with a firm hand against his shoulder. The younger man pouted, and then relented. “What do you mean? Ivan, what the hell does that mean?”

“You know of the scars on my neck?”

Alfred nodded. “Yeah.”

“A deigol attacked me when I was a child, but before it could finish ripping at my throat my father killed it.”

“Fuck.”

Ivan laughed gently at Alfred’s interjection. “ _Da._ That was the sentiment I have as well.”

Alfred looked up to gaze at Ivan and then to his neck, which was covered by his scarf. “Is that why you stabbed it in the throat?”

“No, it is a satisfying way to pin it to the ground. I am not that poetic.” Ivan was quiet again: an unsettling theme for the night. Alfred watched the pulse beat in his throat. Looking up further caused his head to ache more.

“What’s wrong now?”

“The wards. I don’t know how they could not have worked. They should have alerted you. It should have stopped the deigol from even coming near the house. Alfred, I spend so much time trying to think of ways to keep you safe and none of it mattered. You were hurt and there was nothing I could do to protect you. I was not even here.”

Alfred sighed. “Ivan, I trust you completely to keep me as safe as you can, but I could fall off a chair tomorrow and break my neck. Nothing is ever going to keep me a hundred percent safe. Things happen” He knew he had a complex about safety. It had been fairly obvious since they had gotten married what with all the wards and charms and such.

“This was not ‘Things happen’.” He paused. “Do not stand on chairs,” Ivan muttered.

“It was an example, Star Eyes.”

Ivan muttered something in Russian, and Alfred had a sneaking suspicion he would need to check if all the chairs would be bolted down by the time he was moving about the house again. He wanted to grab him and kiss him and hold him until all his worries were smoothed out by gentle fingers and all the joyous starlight was back in his eyes.

There was a knock at the door, and Alfred looked up. Ivan pulled away from beneath him, making sure Alfred was settled back on the pillows before answering, “Come in.”

Francis walked in, his hair pulled back with a blue ribbon and in a white button up shirt and slacks. The shirt was rolled up to his elbows and he wore a long dark leather apron. Dark liquid had been splattered across the front, and staining the lower portion of his left sleeve.

“I saw the light on and thought this was something that you may wish to know. Ah, It is good to see you awake, _mon ami_.”

Alfred smiled, and Ivan said, “What is it?”

Francis frowned. “The deigol that attacked Alfred, I took a look at the body like you asked–”

“What?” Alfred asked.

“And?” Ivan pressed.

Francis looked uncomfortable and said slowly, “I think it wasn’t drinking Alfred’s blood. I think it was storing it.”

“Well both are gross,” Alfred said breaking the hushed silence.

Ivan’s eyes flickered down and then he returned his gaze to Francis. “What made you think that?”

“There is a poison sack here, _oui_?” Francis said as he gestured to his throat. “But there was nothing in there. Only blood. There was almost none in the stomach.”

“You autopsied that thing? Wait. Is that _its blood_?” Alfred asked in surprise. A shudder of revulsion flickered through him.

Francis nodded. He looked back at Ivan who had turned to grab the cold tea and gave it to Alfred, waiting until he had finished the cup. “What do you think it means?” Francis asked.

“I do not know.” Ivan admitted.


	5. Briza maxima

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Briza maxima_ : Quaking Grass. Agitation

It took eight days for Alfred to finally decide to slip out of the house. Ivan’s protectiveness, which Alfred was sure was starting to border on the edge of being a full blown complex, had decided that someone had to be with Alfred at all times. Ivan himself had been constantly by his side, and during the few moments he was pulled away there was someone always guarding him. They’d argued of course, and Ivan was final in his decision. Someone was always next to Alfred for his own protection. It made him feel like a five year old with a babysitter.

The gash on his side had begun to heal and he was able to walk around the house without any problems as long as he was careful of his movements. The stitches still hadn’t dissolved and for the most part Alfred was still lying in bed or on the couch when he couldn’t take silence any more. He kept looking out of the window into the bright spring day, watching the emerald leaves birth from their buds. It was hot today and Alfred could smell the sweet lilacs blooming. He ached to go into the sun again and ditch his ever-present shadow.

It wasn’t that having someone near him at all times was awful. Everyone was nice and Alfred had good conversations with Arthur and Toris, who were normally the ones at the house, but he was feeling itchy under his skin at not being able to just go into a room by himself or step outside for a minute. So, after eight days of being constantly by someone’s side, Alfred escaped.

Ivan had been called away. Alfred wasn’t sure why, but it did have something to do with the deigol. He hadn’t pressed further. Francis was watching him today, ever present and within arms length. They were sitting in the silent house, Alfred lying on the couch while Francis scribbled in a notebook, sitting cross-legged in an armchair across from him. When Alfred sat up and began to get off the couch, Francis looked up, blue eyes alert. “Do you need something?”

“No, just using the bathroom. I’m going to take a shower. I feel gross.” Alfred muttered. Francis put the notebook down and Alfred sighed. “You don’t have to follow me.”

“Ah, see, that is where you’re wrong. Ivan made it very clear–“

“–That I should be in someone’s sight at all times until everything is sorted out. I know.” Alfred said flatly.

Francis gave a benign smile. “Well, there you go.”

Alfred shook off the offered hand to help with getting off the couch, and stood up, waiting a minute for his side to stop aching with dull thuds, and padded off to the bathroom down the hall in their bedroom. Francis followed, but stood a respectful distance away in the bedroom when Alfred closed the bathroom door behind him.

He stood in the bathroom, looking at the tiled walls and the mirror as he stalled before turning to the toilet and flushed it, opening the window at the same time. Alfred turned on the faucet, going through the motions and finally turned to the shower and turned the water on. He put one leg through the window, braced himself, and curled up to shimmy out. He had to jump a little to land on the grass below, putting a hand to his side as he straightened and felt his abdomen ache.

Freedom. Oh god it felt good to get out from everyone’s eyes and into the sunlight. Alfred looked up at the sun and smiled. He shut his eyes as the wind brushed the grass against his leg, the scent of the sweet floral air rising to the hot sky. Alfred walked away from the house and into the backyard, walking through the grass until he was at the edge of the hill the house was perched on and sat down. He was still in sight of the house. Alfred felt too guilty to go further.

There were birds chirping in a nearby tree and Alfred watched a bee buzz by, hovering around him until it decided that he was not a flower. The bee dipped down onto a bright yellow dandelion in the grass near him. Clouds streamed across the sky, bright white as they elegantly sprawled and curled with fat blue underbellies promising rain later. Alfred shut his eyes and took as deep of a breath as he could without feeling pain. He put his palm against the thin material of his black tee shirt where the wound lay below. 

It felt cold. The healing pink flesh was always chilled, even though to the touch it was as warm as the rest of his skin. Alfred wondered if that would ever go away. He hadn’t mentioned it to Ivan and he wasn’t sure why. It would probably be the smart thing to do.

“Enjoying yourself?”

Alfred jolted, looking over his shoulder to see Francis standing with his arms crossed.

“Sorry.”

Francis sighed, a long finger tapping against his forearm as he frowned. Finally, he shook his head and took a seat on the grass next to Alfred. “We could have gone outside if you had asked, Alfred.” Francis said.

Alfred looked down at the grass, pulling at it and listening as it ripped out of the ground. “I just needed a moment to think,” Alfred muttered.

He could feel the weight of the Frenchman’s gaze on him and Alfred continued to pull at the grass, building a small haystack of the blades. The wind gusted and it toppled over, falling over his sweatpants. “I don’t think you understand the severity of what happened.” Francis turned to look down the hill and to the edge of the woods.

A small flicker of anger coursed through Alfred. “The deigol nearly killed me. I think I do.”

“Do you?”

Alfred turned to look at Francis, blue eyes clashing with blue. Francis was still frowning and his eyes were severe. It was an unusual sight as nearly every time Alfred had met him the man was in cheerful spirits. Alfred’s throat felt tight at the question. Of course he did. He was the one who had felt that thing claw and lap at him. The wound seemed to respond to his thoughts as an icy burn wormed against the cut. Alfred tightened his grip.

“Yeah.”

“We aren't here to keep you a prisoner in your house, Alfred. Ivan is concerned because if it happened once, it could happen again.” Alfred looked back to the grass. He could feel a shiver run up his spine at the thought. Francis continued, “Ivan’s wards for the house were some of the strongest I’ve seen. You can’t even get here without using that single circle in the woods, and only Ivan is able to use the circle in the back here. The hills around here are threaded with protection sigils and the grounds are embedded with wards. There should have been no possible way for anything to enter the house without permission.”

“Well, I mean, a Mundane could, right? They aren't able to use magic.” Alfred took his hand away from his side and placed his hands behind him to lean back.

“They’re still affected by it.” Francis looked confused. He shook his head and stared back at the woods.

“What?” Alfred frowned. “Dr. Morris had no problem getting here.”

“Ivan was expecting him. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been able to get here. He would have gotten lost, perhaps urged by his ‘gut feeling’ to take a wrong turn. The house may have appeared abandoned to him.”

Alfred remembered about something similar Arthur had said. How most Mundanes would be uneasy with so many protection wards surrounding the house. Alfred had always assumed though that it would only really affect other Magicians. That the magic would only interfere with other magic and stuff like that.

“You’ve never had a problem with that?” Francis asked as he turned to face Alfred. “None of your friends having problems getting here?”

Alfred shrugged. “We haven’t lived here that long. Besides, I don’t have a lot of friends around these parts. I used to live in Virginia before we moved up here, and before that I lived in California. I don’t have to be in person to work, so I don't have office friends, and my only family lives in Canada.”

“Your brother has not visited?”

“Matt doesn’t like Ivan,” Alfred muttered.

Francis hummed and shifted his position to cross his legs, using his arm to prop up his head as he leaned on his knee. “I am surprised you have not been lonely. Newly weds must find plenty of things to entertain them.”

Alfred blushed at that and Francis chuckled softly. Alfred guessed he must appear to be lonely, when you looked at it. Alfred worked in town in a small office he leased over the small local grocer. He had a truck he kept at the bottom of the hill and drove into town every weekday to work. He couldn’t have his computer crash or no Internet because of Ivan’s magic interference, so most of his electronics were stored in the office. He’d work remotely and at the end of the day Alfred would stop for food, pick up anything else from the town center, and drive home.

Alfred watched the clouds twirl slowly in the air and flinched when Francis’ fingers lightly grazed his arm.

“ _Désolé_ ,” Francis said, withdrawing his touch quickly. “I was only looking at your bruise.”

Alfred glanced down at the ugly bloom of blue and black that mottled his skin. It was engulfed by yellow and there were patches of green on the edge. It looked as bad as it hurt. “No, sorry. I wasn’t expecting it.” He was jumpy ever since the attack.

“Did you ever find out if it was fractured or not?”

“Definitely not a fracture or bone bruise.” Alfred said resolutely.

Francis glanced at him. “How would you know? You did not have a Mundane healer take a look at it, correct?”

“Doctor,” Alfred said absentmindedly. “And I wasn’t going to the hospital and paying for information I already know. I know what a fractured arm feels like.” Alfred paused, realizing what he’d said and tacked on before Francis could ask any questions, “So what is a deigol anyway? A monster? Demon?”

There was a pause before Francis answered. He furrowed a hand through his long pale hair. “A monster is perhaps the best word. It is a _dregho_ to Magicians.”

“Dregho?” Alfred echoed.

Francis nodded, eyes growing distant as he explained. “Dreghos are a class of creatures. A deigol is in this class, similar to how a cat is a feline.” His voice became hushed as he added, “The Blackened is part of this as well. Its correct name is a _velauk_.”

“So calling it a Blackened is like calling it the boogeyman?”

Francis tilted his head in thought and finally nodded. “Yes. I think that would be right.”

“How many kinds of…dregho–is that right, okay, dreghos are there?” Alfred grimaced at the thought of more monsters lurking in the woods.

“Four.” Francis held up his lithe fingers as he counted down. “Treiguh, deigol, veluhdai, and velauk. Strength and intelligence in that order as well.” Francis dropped his hand into his lap. “Magicians have killed them for centuries. There are not many around any longer.”

“How do we not know about them?” Alfred asked in surprise. The wind tugged at his clothing and he watched a moth flutter by.

Francis shrugged with one shoulder, unfurling from his crossed legs and leaned back. “They are attracted to magic. They usually leave Mundanes alone.”

“So why go after me?” Alfred asked and looked at his feet.

“That is the question we are trying to answer,” Francis said and stood up. He brushed his pants off and held out a hand to Alfred, helping him off the grass easily. “And why you shouldn’t be alone right now.”

Alfred shoved his hands into his sweatpants pockets and looked abashed. “Sorry.”

Francis waved his hand and smiled. “Nothing happened. You’re lucky that it wasn’t Arthur you gave the slip to.”

Alfred grinned at that. “I don’t think he’d ever stop lecturing me.”

“No, he would not.” They walked back to the house. Francis held the back door open for them and they walked inside. It was cooler in the house. Alfred walked to the kitchen, and Francis shooed him over to the kitchen table as he began to prepare them lunch. Alfred watched him prepare them sandwiches and cut up vegetables and fruit. When Francis was finally done with the lunches and had placed a tall glass of milk in front of Alfred, the sky had darkened considerably and gentle rain began to tap at the windows. Alfred took his pain medication with the milk and began to chew on the roast chicken arugula sandwich when the door to the house slammed open.

Francis stood, watching carefully as Toris trudged in, soaked in rain and smeared with dirt. His green eyes burned with adrenaline. “Natalia’s people were attacked. Ivan wants you there. I’ll watch Alfred.”

Francis nodded, taking a whole carrot with him as he went to gather his things. “Where?”

“South side, where the Blackened was last seen.” Toris shook his hair of water, looking helplessly at the puddles forming on the ground.

Alfred watched Francis pull on his cloak, strapping his bag underneath the heavy fabric. He paused, tying his hair back and out of his eyes and looked up, giving a short wave to Alfred, “ _Au revoir_ ,” he said and sprinted out of the house. 

“Be careful!” Alfred shouted behind him, listening to the door slam shut. He turned to Toris. There was blood trickling down his eye. “Shit. Are you okay?”

“What?”  
Alfred stood up and immediately Toris walked over, gesturing for him to stay down. “Your head. You’re bleeding.”

“Hit my head on a rock. That’s why Ivan sent me back.” He rubbed at his face, looking at the small stain of red that came back. “I will be fine.”

Alfred frowned. “Still, you should take a look at it. You can let your cloak dry in the laundry room. Should be towels on top of the dryer. First aid kit is in the bathroom under the sink.” Alfred paused. “Well, my first aid kit is. Ivan’s is under the kitchen sink. It’s blue.”

Toris nodded, but didn’t move.

“You can let me out of your sight for a minute, I’m just going to be eating lunch. House isn’t that big. If something happens, you’ll hear it.” Alfred took a sip of the milk.

That seemed to soothe Toris’ thoughts and he pattered off to get dry. Alfred looked down at the food, wondering what was going on. He nibbled at some grapes, most of his appetite gone. When Toris came back about five minutes later, there was still some dirt on his face, but his clothes were dry and the cut above his eye was salved and patched. He took a seat at the table and sighed, leaning back into the chair.

“What happened?” Alfred asked.

“Deigols.” Toris muttered, and looked at Francis’ untouched plate. Alfred pushed it at him and the other man picked up the sandwich with a hearty bite.

“What did you mean by Natalia’s people?” Alfred asked.

“Natalia is the commander of the royal guards, as is her birthright.” Toris explained between bites. “With all the strange activity going on she was looking into it. A horde attacked her people.”

“And Ivan?” Alfred asked breathlessly.

Toris stopped eating. “He’s fine. He wasn’t part of the attack. When he heard about the attack he went to help her.” Green eyes looked down at the ground. “She lost some people. I think she hurt her leg.”

Alfred looked down to his plate. He wasn’t too friendly with Natalia, but he knew that Ivan cared for his half sister. “Was there anyone–”

“No,” Toris shook his head. “I think you only know Ivan’s advisors. None of them were killed.” There was a sick joy that squirmed through Alfred’s stomach. His shoulders slumped in relief. “I think Ivan will not be back tonight. He’s sending someone else to the house later.”

Alfred nodded. He rubbed his finger against the glass and looked down at the angry red cut that ran down his thumb. Alfred frowned, having forgotten all about the healed cut.

“Toris?” Alfred asked, looking down at the healing scar across his thumb and forefinger.

“Yes, Alfred?”

“Have you ever heard of a branch being ripped out of your hand when you try to go inside?”

Toris tilted his head in thought. “What kind of branch?”

Alfred knitted his brows in thought. “Raspberry. It was black. I meant to show it to Ivan, but then…” he trailed off with a shrug.

“Ah.” Toris looked out the rain-streaked window as he thought. “No, I don’t think I have. I can look into it, if you wish.”

Alfred gave a small smile. “Yeah. That’d be great.” It sounded like Ivan was going to have his hands full anyway.

Toris nodded and stood up with the plate in his hand. “I am going to make sure the house is locked. Please don’t move until I get back.” He put the plate in the sink and then disappeared into the hall.

Alfred toyed with moving to the living room, but sat in the chair and took another bite of the sandwich. If he didn’t eat a little more the medication was going to make him nauseas. Toris came back after Alfred finished half the sandwich, and Alfred got up and put the plate in the refrigerator. He walked to the living room and Toris followed, settling down in a chair by the empty fireplace as Alfred went to the couch again. He picked up the book he had last been reading, something about American spies in Argentina that was horribly written but amusing, and began to read as Toris looked out the window.

They stayed like that for a while and the light grew weaker with each hour. The rain continued to drone on softly. Alfred glanced at the clock on the mantle when he finally had to turn on a lamp due to the strain on his eyes. Toris looked up when the amber light brightened the room. He too looked at the clock.

“They should be here by now,” he muttered.

“Who?” Alfred asked, putting the book down.

“Ivan wanted two people at the house tonight. It’s almost dark. Whoever he sent should be here.”

Alfred looked out the gray window. There was a gloomy quality to the scenery, as though a faint paintbrush had washed everything in a dull slate watercolor paint. Clouds hung low, their bellies swollen with rain.

Toris stood up, looking out through the window. Alfred watched him walk up to the glass. His worried face reflected against the window. “Something isn’t right.”


	6. Primula vulgaris

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Primula vulgaris: Primrose. I can't live without you_

Alfred didn’t sleep. Both he and Toris stayed awake, periodically looking through the windows and into the black milk of night. The rain carried on, peppering the house with what should have been a calming drone, but only added to the static of Alfred’s anxiousness. He stayed stationed on the couch, the night watch by the window and Toris paced through the house, checking their defenses and seeing if any messages or warnings were trying to be relayed to them.

Dawn struggled through the clouds, yellow light mulishly peering through the break of gray. Alfred made coffee around five, when his back began to groan from being pressed against the arm of the couch and hot exhaustion clawed at his body. He slowly padded through the kitchen, going through the motions without much thought and was measuring out the ground beans when he heard Toris take a sharp breath. “Someone is coming towards the house.”

Alfred left the coffee scattered on the countertop, walking over to the window. Toris placed a protective hand on Alfred’s shoulder as they both watched the misty knoll and the edge of the woods where several smudges of ashy silhouettes were becoming visible. Alfred’s breath fogged the glass as he stared. He rushed to the door.

“Ivan!”

Four standing figures had become visible, their shadows burned away in the morning light. Ivan’s pale hair glinted in the sunlight as he drew near, frosted gold strands illuminated. He carried a limp form in his arms and seemed to be breathing hard and was talking down at the unresponsive man. Alfred’s stomach twisted and a jolt of nausea threaded through his abdomen like an arrow. He knew the shock of wheat hair from the still body, although it was matted with brown blood now.

Toris pressed by Alfred, running into the slick grass and came to a halt at Ivan’s side. They were close enough that Alfred could hear them.

“What happened?” Toris asked, taking stock of the grim faces around him. “Is Arthur–“

“ _Nyet_ ,” Ivan said, his voice like the winter sea striking against rocks. “Not if we can help it.” He adjusted his grip and walked faster to the house. Toris stopped, helping to shoulder Francis who was pale and traveling slowly behind with a severe limp. His eyes never flickered away from Ivan’s back as he carried Arthur. There were two other men Alfred didn’t recognize. One somewhat smaller, but with a bulk to his frame that said he was strong who had light blond hair and a moon shaped face. The other was tall with a shock of wild pale hair and bright blue eyes, framed by dark brows that were currently pitched down in pain. Wide hands grasped tightly at a red gash along his right muscular forearm. 

Alfred rushed back into the house, ripping the cabinet doors open and pulling out the first aid kits– both his and Ivan’s. He pulled out clean dishrags, knowing they didn’t have enough gauze for the wounds that the group seemed to have.

“Clear the table,” Ivan’s voice came and there was a scraping sound of someone scrambling to move the dishes away. A light thud followed and Alfred switched on the lights above, illuminating the harrowing scene in vivid glory. Ivan was deftly pulling away Arthur’s shirt after unfurling the blood-matted cloak with stained fingers. The round-faced man was at his side instantly, throwing his own bark colored cloak to the floor and pressing his shirtsleeves up.

“He needs to be seen by the royal healers,” the man said, his voice soft but firm.

“He will not make it,” Ivan said as he slit Arthur’s shirt apart, looking down to the bloody gashes on Arthur’s stomach. They seeped dark blood against his bone colored skin. “You need to make him live long enough for us to get them.”

“They’re going to be swamped with the wounds from what’s left of the Royal Guard,” The other man Alfred didn’t know said gravely. He was still clutching the wound on his arm, his own face pale and gray.

“Then we make due here,” Ivan said and pressed down on Arthur’s bleeding wounds tightly. His violet eyes flickered to Alfred as he brought over the medical supplies.

“What do you need?” Alfred asked. Arthur was unresponsive, his skin waxy and pale. Alfred could see the feathered blue veins where Arthur’s pulse fluttered.

“Tino?” Ivan prompted, taking a rag and pressing down again on Arthur’s wounds.

The other man looked up, light eyes searching Ivan’s face. “I am not a registered healer.”

“You are better than I am.” Ivan growled.

That seemed to be all Tino needed and he pulled out the magpie collection of tins and bottles from the blue box Ivan kept. He asked few questions, fingers flying as he began to try to save Arthur. He finally settled on a bottle of clear liquid, uncorking it and frowning as he looked up at Ivan. “Hold him still.”

Ivan leaned over Arthur’s frame, grasping his arms tightly. Tino peeled away the swath of blood soaked cloth away, looking at the gashes, and began to mutter something under his breath. The pads of his fingers glowed orange as he poured the liquid over the wounds.

Arthur screamed, green eyes snapping open and bucked away from the table, his body writhing. His normally brilliant verdant gaze was unfocused and flat. Ivan grunted as Arthur’s hand swung up and hit him in the jaw. 

“Mathias!” Tino yelled, looking up at the other man still standing in the kitchen.

Mathias lurched forward, gripping Arthur’s hips to keep him flat against the table. Alfred rushed in as well, holding the man’s legs. He wasn’t quick enough and a knee caught his jaw, snapping his teeth together with a painful rattle. He hugged his lithe legs, swearing as Arthur lurched again with a ragged scream in pain as Tino poured the liquid again.

Tino’s fingers danced along the seams of the wounds, orange light trailing in his wake. Alfred didn’t have much time to watch as he tried to keep Arthur as still as possible. He looked up and noticed Francis at the head of the table with Ivan, pale fingers spread alongside Arthur’s face. “Arthur, Arthur it will be okay. You will be alright,” he said. Francis’ voice was tight as ocean blue eyes bore down into Arthur’s unseeing grass green eyes. “ _Mon coeur_ , listen to me,” Francis trailed off in French, and Alfred looked away, unwilling to break into the private moment.

Metal clattered as Tino ripped off a lid to a dark blue fishscale printed tin, dipping two fingers into butter yellow cream and lathed it over the weeping wounds. He was still muttering, a steady chant rising and falling like river water rushing over stones. He glanced up at Arthur’s face, who had slowly stopped writhing and shut his eyes with a shuttered breath, falling limp once more. Mathias and Ivan stepped away, and Alfred let go, looking down to the dark splotches of blood running up and down his arms. Francis trailed his fingers through Arthur’s matted hair, staring down and whispering something for only the unresponsive man to hear.

“What happened?” Toris asked again from the edge of the kitchen, face pale at the nightmarish scene stretched out in front of them. Alfred watched Tino work. The wounds were blackened and blistered along the edges, but the skin had knitted together in angry puckered knots. Teardrops of blood and clear fluid dripped down, and Tino gingerly patted at it with more salve, an oily looking one with a purple tinge this time. He began to cover it with one of the towels, and Alfred offered the gauze packages.

“They’re sterile,” Alfred said at Tino’s confused look.

“Thank you, Alfred,” Ivan said softly. Tino took them, opening the plastic packages slowly due to his greased fingers, and began to swathe Arthur in the bandages.

“I don’t know,” Mathias said turning to Toris finally. He had returned to holding his own wound tightly. “It was like all the protections on his cloak failed. He was completely vulnerable.”

“How is that possible?” Toris said, looking to the group of Magicians in front of him.

“We do not know,” Ivan said. He looked over to Mathias and shook his head. “If you and Francis had not pulled him out of there, he would have been dead.” Ivan stepped away from the kitchen table, but stayed near the counter in the kitchen in case Tino would need him again. “He was able to cast fine, but all his defenses…it was as though they had all been erased.”

“It wasn’t like the deigols had some new idea though, you know, beyond this new swarming behavior. All of our defensive spells and wards worked fine.” Mathias added.

“And yet they somehow managed to slaughter the Royal Guard.” Francis said solemnly.

This was followed by silence, the words only echoing the shadow of fear that was curled up inside Alfred’s chest.

“Someone has to let Lili’s brother know.” Mathias said quietly.

Alfred looked up at that, looking from Ivan’s shuttered expression to Tino as his hand’s stopped in their fluttered movements.

“What do you mean?” Alfred asked.

“She was killed,” Mathias replied as he looked down to his arm.

An iron hot streak of pain struck his heart. Lilli couldn’t be…He thought of her soft smile, the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled. He remembered the tea she had brought him when he had awoken from the deigol attack, warm with honeyed spices. Alfred looked to Ivan for confirmation. His husband nodded and the river of grief filled him. His throat itched and he looked down at Arthur, deciding to think of the living right now until he was alone.

“I will go and speak to him. We’ve known each other for a long time.” Toris said slowly, as though the words were thick and didn’t fit right in his mouth. “I will report to the King and Queen Regent that you are alright.” Toris continued, looking to Ivan for confirmation.

“Thank you, Toris.” Ivan said. He looked to Francis and Mathias, turning away from the kitchen as the green eyed advisor walked out the door. “You two need wounds taken a look at as well.”

“Nothing time won’t heal,” Mathias said with a flash of a grin.

“It is only a sprained ankle,” Francis replied, not moving from his post by Arthur’s side.

“You should have your own wounds taken care of, my lord.” Tino added without looking up.

“Wounds?” Alfred said, looking at Ivan carefully. He had assumed that the blood was all of Arthur’s.

“Scratches,” Ivan said and met Alfred’s gaze evenly.

“The blood on your arm already is stopping Mathias, clean it out by the sink and I’ll wrap it.” Tino stepped away from Arthur, handing Alfred the leftover clean gauze. “Francis, please keep your foot up for now and I will take a look at it later.” He finally turned to Ivan and smiled tiredly. “You got a cut on your back, I saw it earlier. Tend to it?” He pushed a yellow and blue dotted tin towards Alfred and gave a soft smile. “It will stop infection from setting in. Just clean the wound and bandage it?”

“No problem,” Alfred said, glad to be doing something. He grabbed his own small red first aid kit and grabbed Ivan by the wrist gently. “Come on, I’ll take care of you.”

Ivan followed in silence, letting Alfred gently pull him to their bedroom where he closed the door tightly behind him. He turned to Ivan, taking a long shaky sigh before stepping close and pressing his face into the hollow by his throat. He listened to the jagged pulse of his heart. Ivan breathed deeply, pressing his lips against Alfred’s temple. Neither moved. They stood, listening to each other’s hearts and breathing in each other’s air. Alfred pulled away, pulling him into the bathroom and filled the ink with gentle warm water. Ivan stripped the blood stained clothes away, letting them fall to the tiled floor of the bathroom until he was naked. His hands shook. Alfred grasped his left hand, pulling it up and kissing the grazed and scabbed knuckles.

“Are you okay, Star Eyes?”

“I am fine.”

“Vanya,” Alfred said with a frown.

Ivan looked down at him, violet eyes searching his face before his shoulders slumped and the gravity of leadership and strength melted away. “I am tired.”

“Okay.” Alfred kissed his cheek and led him to sit down on the closed toilet bowl seat. “I’ve got ya.”

Ivan chuckled at that, a deep resonant sound like a cello that Alfred loved so much. Alfred huffed his own muted laugh, and washed away the blood on his arms. He dipped the washcloth in the clear warm water, washing away the dried blood on Ivan’s face. A dried constellation of death. He recognized the dark oily blood of the deigols and bit his tongue. He peered over his shoulder and growled, “That’s more than a scratch.”

Ivan at least had the decency to look a little sheepish in front of him. “I cannot even feel it.”

“Sure,” Alfred muttered as he wrung the washcloth and wet it again. “Sit still and let me look at it.”

“You’re not a healer,” Ivan reminded him.

“I took first aid and I was certified, not that it means anything to you. But I think I can follow Tino’s instructions. Especially since this is just a scratch, right?”

“I do not like it when you get like this.” Ivan muttered, shifting on the toilet so Alfred could access the three cuts slashed along his marble skin.

“And I don’t like it when you come back looking like you tried using the deli counter’s slicer as a back scratcher,” Alfred muttered to himself. He washed the blood, dabbing at the areas that still seeped gently with the washcloth. Alfred took the tin of salve and gently applied it with clean hands. He looked up every so often to watch the flutter of a pulse in his neck or the way his eyes danced on him as their eyes met in the bathroom mirror. He couldn’t think beyond the selfish happiness that Ivan was okay and alive.

Others weren’t so lucky.

“What happened to Lilli?” Alfred asked as he began to tape the bandages.

Ivan stiffened and Alfred placed a warm hand along his muscled shoulder. He rubbed at the spot where his neck yielded to his spine and Ivan let out a long breath.

“Her area was under attack. The deigols– they never have been seen in more than groups of three. I do not understand. This was a swarm of nearly a hundred. The Royal Guard was called, and they were slaughtered. She was caught as she tried to help someone who was injured.” Ivan stopped, unwilling to go beyond that. “I do not even have a body to return to her family.”

Alfred’s hands trembled for a moment and he swallowed harshly. He finished taping the bandage and turned to Ivan.

“I wish I could have fought them.” Alfred finally said.

Ivan turned, violet eyes concerned. “Why? You cannot win against them. I nearly lost you to one of them.” his broad hand hovered over the hidden healing wound along Alfred’s side.

“It’s not– I just wish I could have helped somehow. I’m not used to feeling like I’m so useless.” Alfred stopped and rubbed at hot eyes. “She was a really good person.”

“I know.”

“She didn’t deserve this.”

“No.” Ivan shook his head. There was fire and hatred in his eyes. “She did not.”

Alfred busied his hands, feeling the weight of Ivan’s eyes on him as he wet another clean cloth and washed the dirt and grime off of the other man’s body. Alfred drained the sink, watching the umber water drain away and then pulled at Ivan’s hand again, entwining his fingers along Ivan’s broad and calloused own. He led him to the bed and pulled him down along side him. Ivan leaned away, careful of avoiding Alfred’s injured side.

“The others…” Ivan said when Alfred pressed his lips against Ivan’s bare neck. He shivered.

“I’m still fixing you up just like I told that Tino guy.”

“You already did that.”

“They don’t know that.” Alfred said, and trailed his kisses along Ivan’s warm skin, feeling the heat and reassurance that Ivan was alive under his touch. “We don’t need to do anything, I just need to have you here. With me.”

Ivan’s eyes locked onto his own, and Alfred could feel the giddy joy of knowing, yes, this was real. He’s alive and well and under the touch of his fingers. Alfred leaned down again, this time taking Ivan’s lips captive and feeling the yield of velvet skin under his thumbs.

Ivan splayed his hand along the small of Alfred’s back, not moving beyond that save guiding a few kisses away from trailing down his arms or chest and back to his lips. Alfred finally dipped his head against Ivan’s chest, resting his ear over the other’s heart and pulled the covers over their bodies.

“Five minutes,” Alfred muttered to Ivan’s protest and shut his eyes.

Alfred awoke without his glasses and to the constant hush of Ivan sweeping his thumb up and down the small swath of Alfred’s arm as he stared at the ceiling. Alfred rubbed at his eyes, looking around the blurry and dim room with a yawn. “What time is it?”

There was the soft rustle of sheets as Ivan pulled away to look at the clock on the bedside table. “11:37. It is still the morning.”

Alfred sighed, unwilling to leave the warmth of the bed and made a soft sound of protest when Ivan began to pull away. He chuckled and pressed the cool metal of glasses into Alfred’s hand. Sitting up, Alfred yawned again and stretched his arms, ignoring the twinge of the healing wound on his side. He absentmindedly touched the skin around the nearly dissolved stitches. The skin was hot. In his mind it felt chilled. Alfred glanced to Ivan who was pulling on some clothes: a pale gray pair of slacks and a soft slate blue sweater that covered his neck.

Alfred swung his legs off the bed. “I need to go into town today. I need to read my emails and I should also get some more medical supplies. We should be running low at this point.”

“I will go with you,” Ivan said as he finished with a belt.

“Good.” Alfred padded over and threaded his arms under Ivan’s pressing his head to the back of his shoulder and squeezing gently in a hug. “I’m gonna call Matt and then I’ll make everyone some food.”

“Thank you,” Ivan muttered and Alfred let go. He went back to the rumpled bed and grabbed his half charged phone from the oak tabletop he used a nightstand. The bedroom door shut behind Ivan and Alfred stared down at the phone. He hadn’t called his brother since before the deigol attack.

Alfred dialed and waited, picking up his brother’s voice mail. Of course. It was the middle of the workday. “Hey Mattie, just checking in on you. No problems, just wanted to talk. Call me back, okay?”

Alfred disconnected and looked to the floor. He took the Advil bottle from his nightstand and took two pills dry before walking out to the hall.

Ivan was standing next to Tino in the living room, both looking down at Arthur’s prone form. The other man was still and for a brief moment fear flickered with the thought he might be dead. Ivan turned, hearing Alfred’s steps, and gave a small smile. Relief sagged and Alfred walked past to the kitchen, pulling out a glass and filling it with water to wash the pills away.

The gore of the morning was gone, and the fist aid kits were perched on the counter. Alfred pulled open the refrigerator and began pulling out what little they had. He hadn’t been going into town, so it wasn’t as well stocked as Alfred would have liked. Still, he had potatoes in the basket by the sink. There were leeks and cream and a box of vegetable stock. The half stale bread on the counter could be toasted with butter and cheese. Alfred pulled all the items out, starting with cutting up the block of butter and tossing it into a large pot on the stove and chopping up the leeks.

Alfred glanced to the living room where Ivan was holding the remains of Arthur’s cloak. He walked into the kitchen, sitting at the table and spreading the deep royal blue fabric out under the light. Sigils embroidered in silver and gold glinted and Alfred stirred the pot gently.

Mathias padded into the kitchen, sitting down at the table across from Ivan. His arm was wrapped up in gauze. Smudges of blue bruises along his jaw were visible now and he furrowed a hand through his unruly hair. Neither spoke. Alfred went back to the leeks, watching them wilt and cook in the butter.

Silence reigned. It had stopped raining outside, but the room was watery gray from the clouded sky. Alfred watched the steam rise and swirl as he poured in the stock and herbs.

Alfred glanced back to the kitchen table when Ivan made a small noise of frustration. “They hold no energy.”

“What?” Mathias asked, leaning forward to gaze down at the cloak.

“They are not broken,” Ivan traced one of the sigils, a coiled spring of circles pierced with a curved line. “None of them are damaged. However they have no energy in them. It is like they have been voided.”

“How is that possible?”

Francis limped in, taking hold of the nearest chair and sat down. His eyes were weary and a stand of his hair curled forward, free from the ribbon that tied the rest back. He gazed at the cloak intently, taking hold of the fabric nearest him and rubbed the fabric gently. “The only way to cease a sigil like this is if the castor deliberately changes the intent, which we can see is not the case since the sigil has not been modified. The other is if the attacker over charges the sigil, but you would feel that. You said you could feel nothing from it, _oui_?” Ivan nodded to Francis’ question. “It is a moot point anyway, as deigols cannot do the magic required to over charge a sigil.”

“I was not thinking it could be a deigol.”

“Sabotage?” Mathias said in surprise.

“I do not know,” Ivan said and turned the cloth in his hands. Alfred turned back to the stove and stirred, adding in the quartered potatoes. “But I have never seen an undamaged sigil be rendered useless.”

“Arthur may know something,” Francis said quietly. He let go of the fabric, sitting back in his seat. “We will have to wait for him to wake up.”

“He needs to bee seen by the healers,” Tino called softly from the living room where he was stationed by Arthur’s side. “ I have done all I can for now, and it has stopped him from bleeding out.”

Alfred left the soup to simmer and leaned against the counter. “I should go into town and pick up some stuff. I know we have differences on medical treatments, but you can still use the gauze and pads to keep his wounds clean.”

Ivan nodded. “We will go after lunch. I will stop by the, what was it called again?”

Alfred grinned. “Health food store.”

“That. They have some herbs I need, although their quality is lesser than what I get from home.”

Alfred nodded. “I’m going to change then. Soup will be done in about half an hour.” He walked out of the kitchen, glancing back at Arthur and sighed quietly. Alfred shut the bedroom door and changed out of the sweatpants and tee shirt that had become his uniform for the past week as he rested from the attack. He pulled on jeans and threaded it with a tan leather belt. He pulled on a deep blue tee shirt gingerly, careful of the way raising his arms pulled at tender flesh, and finally pulled on a warm unzipped red hoodie. 

He left his clothes on the bed and paused when he looked at his side. He thought of Lilli coming by to check on him and help him and his throat grew tight again. He turned away and grabbed his wallet and stuck it into his back pocket before grabbing a pair of white socks and walking back out of the room.

He left the clean socks on the kitchen counter and went to stir the soup. Francis had moved back to the living room and was sitting on a chair with his leg propped up. Tino had moved into the kitchen, sitting at the table and looking at the blue cloak while Mathias had put his head down and looked to be falling asleep. Ivan was watching the countryside through the window. Their eyes met in the window and Alfred turned, smiling at the stove.

He fished out the cooked potato, mashing it with a fork in a bowl and placed it back into the broth, mixing it with cream and letting it cook once again and then seasoned it, stirring in the silence of the house. Finally he turned off the stove, taking the half eaten loaf of bread down and slicing it. He doled out the soup and placed it before the others on the table with a clatter of spoons. Tino pulled the cloak away, folding it and placing it out of sight. He stood up and washed his hands, then brought the rest of the bread to the table as Alfred brought the soup over to Francis in the living room.

“Sorry it’s a bit lumpy,” Alfred said as he took a bite of the soup.

“It’s hot and it could be covered in sand for all I care,” Mathias muttered as he took a spoonful.

They ate quietly, and Alfred spooned out seconds for Tino and Mathias. Ivan was quietly eating at the bread when Alfred spotted shadows of the horizon. “Is that Toris?”

Ivan stood up, looking out at the hill and walked to the door. There were five people walking to the house. He walked over to the door and Alfred stood back in the kitchen. Ivan didn’t look too worried.

“Unannounced visitors?” Tino asked as he finished his piece of bread off.

“It’s the Royal Guard,” Mathias said as he looked out the window. He stood up. “No, that’s the King’s Guard.

“What are they doing here?” Francis asked. Alfred met his gaze and then turned back to look at the five. They wore black cloaks. Underneath Alfred could see black and soft blue coats with bronze buttons lining up their chest. The woman in front with bright green eyes and dusty brown hair had a sword buckled to her hip.

Ivan opened the door as they came to a stop in front of the door. “What has my father sent you here for?” His arm was holding onto the doorframe, and although it looked casual, Alfred could see it for what it was. Barring entrance.

The woman frowned and shook her head. “I’ve been sent by the King with an order.”

“Speak it, then.” Ivan said. When she hesitated, Ivan added, “Elizabeta?”

The woman straightened and looked Ivan in the eye. “By order of the King, the Mundane known as Alfred F. Jones has been ordered to be escorted by the King’s Guard to the Northern Court for interrogation for suspected acts of treason.”


	7. Rhododendron leptothrium

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Rhododendron leptothrium: Azalea. Take care of yourself for me_

The silence that followed felt like a slap. Alfred barely breathed, the words buzzing through his head as a jumble of consonants and syllables, unable to make sense. Alfred took a step out from the kitchen, walking closer to where Ivan stood at the door. His fingers were white where he clutched the doorframe. “Treason?” Ivan said, his voice as cold and solemn as a gravestone, “With what evidence?” 

“You know I don’t know that,” Elizabeta said. Alfred could see her between the gap of the doorway and Ivan’s frame. Her green eyes were sharp and flickered past Ivan to Alfred. He held his breath. “This is an order from the King, your father. He’s wanted for questioning, nothing more.” Her eyes softened and she took a step closer to the house. “Ivan, I swear to you, all we’ve been ordered is to escort him to the King and Queen Regent for questions. He won’t be harmed.” She frowned when Ivan didn’t move from the door and looked back at Alfred. “He’d be safer, with the attacks that have been happening.”

“You know how the King feels about him.”

“I do.”

“And you still think this is all for simple questions? To divert resources in the middle of attacks the like which we have never seen to question one person?”

Elizabeta said nothing and Ivan shook his head. Alfred wanted to reach out and touch Ivan’s shoulder. 

“Let me speak with him,” Ivan finally said. 

There was something unsaid between them and Ivan brought his hand away from the doorframe. Elizabeta looked down to the ground and sighed. She shifted her stance, fingers gripping at something under her cloak. “I’ll give you ten minutes Ivan.” 

Ivan shut the door and turned around, staring at Alfred with an unreadable expression. He stalked past and paused as he turned towards the people in the kitchen. Their arms were nearly touching and Alfred stared at the shut front door.

“Will you intervene?” Ivan’s voice growled out, like thunder ripping over the plains. 

Alfred turned at that, staring at Ivan before looking at the faces in the kitchen. Francis wasn’t looking at Ivan or Alfred. Instead, his pale blue eyes were sharply focused on the other two men at the kitchen table. Tino was frowning, looking out the window where Elizabeta and the other guards were, while Mathias was watching Alfred with an expression he couldn’t identify. His hands were above the table and the calm cheerful nature he had been sporting earlier was gone. 

“Ivan?” Alfred asked. When his husband didn’t turn to look at him he gripped his arm tightly. 

“No,” Tino said quietly to Ivan’s question. “But I will not assist either.”

“If you’re about to do what I think you are, you know that going against the direct order of the king will be an act of treason itself, no matter if you are part of the royal family or not,” Mathias said.  
“I would expect more so,” Francis said as he leaned back against the counter. He held his twisted ankle off from the floor, but kept all his attention on Mathias. 

“Alfred is not subject to the whims of the Court,” Ivan said and finally turned to look at Alfred. His violet eyes were dark, lost in thought, but Alfred could see the panic held there. Ivan’s hand came up and covered Alfred’s where it was perched tightly.

“He is if he’s married to you.” Mathias countered. The yellow light of the kitchen cast his eyes into shadow as he looked away and to the windows. He looked angry and it seemed suddenly impossible to remember when he had been sporting that lazy smile only moments earlier. Wind curled through the open windows of the living room behind Alfred, bringing in the wet smell of earth and a burst of cold. 

“Ivan what’s wrong? I’ll go talk to them. It’s not a problem.” 

“No,” Ivan said. 

“Their marriage isn’t recognized by the Court since Alfred’s a Mundane and hasn’t been presented to the King,” Francis said. “And since it’s not recognized, they can’t force him to abide by their laws

“What?” Alfred pulled his hand away from Ivan and took a step back to face him directly. 

Ivan looked down and guilt flashed across his face. “I’ll explain later. Right now I need you to get your shoes and jacket.” He looked down at Alfred and he thinks Ivan is about to reach out and touch his face, but Ivan turns back to the kitchen and looks at the clock. “We need to hurry.”

Alfred frowns and turns to the bedroom. He already has his wallet and phone, but something tells him to stuff some things into a backpack. He keeps one ear on the muted conversation in the kitchen as he pulls out a dark gray backpack and shoves his first aid kit into it.

“Do not fight us Mathias,” Ivan’s voice carried softly and Alfred stops folding in his charger for his phone to be able to hear it. He can’t hear Mathias’ answer, if he even gives one. He pulled out an extra outfit of pants underwear and shirts for both Ivan and himself and tossed it into the bag. Adrenaline thrums through him and Alfred’s side doesn’t once twinge in pain as he scurried through the bedroom. 

He returned to the living room, looking down at Arthur’s sleeping form in concern. He was pale, and a fevered sweat left his face in a grim sheen in the weak light. Alfred shouldered the pack and stood in the middle of the living room. 

“Eliza said ten minutes. I’ll give you that much.” Mathias said quietly as he looked up from the kitchen table. He leaned back into the chair and folded his arms. “Then I’m following their orders.”

“Thank you.” Ivan turned and looked to Francis. “Take care of Arthur. They’ll be after you two.”

“Ah, well we thought it would eventually happen. You always did think with your heart and not your head.” Francis gave a wry smile and nodded to Alfred. “We’ll see you soon, Alfred. Take care until then.”

There was a note of finality that suddenly scared Alfred and he looked at Ivan uneasily. He didn’t know what was going on. He hated being in the dark. And there was a cold flash of anger that he was being treated so fragilely, as though he didn’t have the means to protect himself. There are scars he carried from defending himself before he ever met Ivan. The thought of the deigol looming over him dampened the anger wetly. 

“One minute,” Tino warned, still looking out of the window. 

Alfred shoved his feet into his sneakers and met Ivan’s gaze, taking his hand. “You’re explaining this all,” He warned. Ivan nodded, thumb sweeping up across his knuckles before he turned and led Alfred to the backdoor. He pulled him close, and Alfred closed his eyes as he was enveloped by the warmth of Ivan’s body and long cloak. 

“Don’t let go,” Ivan warned, his breath ghosting against Alfred’s cheek. 

“Okay,” Alfred said and Ivan pulled him forward with a surge and the front door of the house was ripped open. There was a shout, and Alfred blinked against the watery light of the cool spring late morning sun. The dew on the grass soaked his ankles as they ran and Alfred realized they were running to the transporter circle. 

A flurry of movement to his left made Alfred snap his head to see one of the guards coming from the front of the house, what looked like a wand in his hand pointed towards them. “Ivan!” he warned as he tightened his grip. 

Ivan glanced over as the guard raised his hand a bolt of purple fire careening towards them. Ivan turned abruptly, jarring Alfred’s shoulder as he pulled Alfred behind him and made a slashing movement with his hand. The light exploded like a firework, screaming away from them in dizzy rays. Ivan turned back immediately but stopped short of the circle by a foot when green fire licked the ground in front of them. 

“Please comply, Ivan,” Elizabeta called out from where the guard had attacked them moments ago. 

Ivan did not reply, instead he moved Alfred’s hand to grip the leather of his belt and used both hands and a curved motion, as though pulling the air down from the sky and extinguished the fire. 

Elizabeta sent a lance of the green fire out, snapping only a foot away from Alfred’s face before Ivan deflected it. The heat of it burned his cheeks and he turned away to look at the ground. Alfred looked to the other side from where Ivan was fighting Elizabeta, noticing one of the guards, aiming for them again. Ivan noticed them and rather than deflecting Elizabeta’s next lance of fire, took control of it and sent the missile of fire at the guard. It exploded at their feet, sending them down to the ground and Ivan turned back to Elizabeta, sending out the hot blue fire Alfred had seen when the deigol attacked him over a week ago. It snapped at her raised hands and she cried out, unable to deflect it in time. 

Ivan took a step forward, his hands lowered as he hesitated. Someone screamed “Captain!” from their right and Alfred turned to see a guard send a black jet of what looked like water at them. 

“Don’t!” Elizabeta cried at the guard. Ivan wasn’t quick enough to deflect it and it hit his thigh, sending him to the ground as Alfred’s grip slipped away with the sudden movement. 

“Ivan!” Alfred cried and watched at the guard raised his hand and wand again at Ivan’s prone form. 

“Stop!” Elizabeta warned as the guard sent another attack. Ivan was halfway up, face pained as he clutched his leg. Alfred jumped on top of him, sending him back to the ground and turned only to take the jet of black water dead center to his chest. 

The force of the hit sent Alfred sprawling into the grass. He blinked up at the blue gray sky and felt Ivan pull him up, and into the circle. Alfred could hear Ivan muttering, casting a spell of some sort. The world became tight, like the air had been shoved out of his body in a strong punch and he felt as though he were stapled to the bottom of the sea as a tidal wave pushed and pulled around him. He held on tightly to Ivan and the feeling stopped, leaving only the smell of burnt cinnamon behind. 

Alfred fell to his knees, gripping his sides painfully at the sensation of having the world twist around him and took gulping breaths. Ivan’s hands were on him, consuming him instantly before he could process what the other was saying. 

“How much does it hurt? Your heart didn’t stop from the attack. You are going to be okay.”

Alfred panted, getting to his knees and batted Ivan’s hand away. “I’m okay. God damn, is that what it feel like every time you use that circle?”

Ivan looked panicked and Alfred sat down, realizing they were on rocky ground rather than the damp grass from earlier. He was clutching his thigh tightly, but looked at Alfred with wide eyes. “How much pain are you in?”

“None,” Alfred said as his breathing returned to normal. He adjusted his glasses and looked worriedly at Ivan’s thigh. “Are you okay?”

“You should be in worse pain,” Ivan said. He stared unblinkingly and Alfred frowned. 

“I mean it tickled a bit, but it just knocked me off of you.” Alfred placed his hands to look down at his shirt and stared at the scorch mark left behind from the attack. It was still smoldering. Ivan’s cold hands rucked up his shirt, studying the unmarred skin over his chest. 

“You’re not hurt,” he said in disbelief. 

“No?” Alfred said slowly and pulled back from Ivan to look at his thigh. He touched gently at the blackened clothing at the wound and recoiled when Ivan gave an agonized cry, muffling it at the last second. 

“Shit! Sorry.” Alfred reached into his pack to search for the first aid. 

Ivan continued to stare at him. “That could have killed you. You should be screaming in pain right now.” He fell silent, gritting his teeth and Alfred filled in the rest of the sentence: _or dead_. Ivan reached into a bag tied to his belt and pulled out a small tin filled with a waxy yellow cream. He slathered it over the cloth and blistered wound and shoved the tin back into his bag. “Burn cream,” he muttered.

Alfred frowned at him. “You’re not supposed to put ointment on burns. Higher risk of infection.” He stood up and looked around. They were on a craggy outcrop of stone, the bald face of a sloping mountain. Alfred shielded his eyes, and looked down to the valley where it looked like there was a small town. “Where are we?” He glanced at the pine trees and greenery and then back to Ivan who was grimacing as he began to stand up. Alfred grabbed his arm, steadying him. 

“A two hour’s walk outside of Stowe, Vermont,” Ivan muttered. 

“We traveled nearly two hundred miles in less then a second.” Alfred said as he stared at the town below. He shook his head. “Are we safe here? Are they coming after us?” Dust from the mountain stirred with a warm breeze and Alfred shielded his eyes. 

“We should have a day before they are looking here. It’s not easy to map the trail of energy, but Elizabeta is good.” He said it slightly crossly and Alfred smiled just a little.

“We should get you somewhere other than the open.” Alfred looped his arm around Ivan. “And then we’re going to have a nice little chat.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah,” Alfred said as he helped Ivan off the rock and towards the cover of some white pines. “Like starting with why our marriage isn’t valid?” He helped Ivan down, making sure they were out of sight from the rocks and placed the backpack behind Ivan’s back as he leaned up against a tree, his leg stretched out in front of him. 

“It is valid,” he said tersely. Alfred watched Ivan close his eyes as he flexed the muscles of his leg, taking a strained breath with the pain. His violet eyes fluttered open again and stared. 

“That’s not what I heard.” Alfred crossed his arms, leaning back against the tree. He looked down, watching an ant scuttle by and swiped it away before it could reach his leg. 

“I made an oath to you when we were joined.” He fell silent, looking up at the tree canopy. “That is all we will ever need: to be together in each other’s eyes.”

“I know, but you know what I mean.” Alfred rubbed his fingers through his hair and sighed. 

“Because you are not a Magician, you have to be presented to the Court and swear an oath of fealty to the current King or Queen and then I would claim you as my own.” Ivan snorted in a laugh. “And while I would have no problem as claiming you, I will not make you swear allegiance to one who does not have your best interest in mind.”

Alfred had smiled when Ivan talked of claiming him, feeling the hot shivers of want curling through him, but frowned. “What do you mean?”

Ivan shifted, moving off a root he had been sitting on. “The King, my father, has always been clear in his contempt of those who cannot wield magic.” Ivan’s voice deepened with anger, “I will not have you two in the same room.”

Alfred took this information and began to draw into the dry dirt with a fallen branch. “Why haven’t you told me this before?”

“I did not want you to feel burdened with this information,” Ivan said. “My father already disowned me for dating you, I cannot imagine what he would do if I tried to make our union lawful in his eyes.”

“What?” Alfred looked up sharply. 

“What?”

“He disowned you?” Alfred threaded his fingers through his hair again, pulling gently and gripped at his knee with his other hand. 

“I told you that.” Ivan said slowly. 

“No you didn’t.”

“I did.”

“You said you weren’t going to be King, I thought that just meant he was in good health or something.” Alfred pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“No. I was first in line. Katyusha was second as she is my full blood sister and younger. Natalia is my half sister through my mother and was third which is why she was in charge of the guards. Now Katyusha will reign and Natalia is second. I am now third only because my mother was royal as well.” Alfred must have had a stricken look on his face because Ivan reached out, although he couldn’t touch, as their respective trees were too far apart. 

“You shouldn’t have thrown that all away,” Alfred said slowly. He tightened his grip around the branch, listening to it creak under his strength. 

“I will always choose you.” Ivan said. 

“I’m not worth that.”

Ivan was silent and then stood up, ignoring Alfred protests as he struggled over and sat with a groan next to Alfred. He leaned in, kissing Alfred gently. Alfred could feel tears pricking the corners of his eyes. “You have always, and always will be worth it.”

Alfred hummed and looked down to the ground, leaning into Ivan’s shoulder. “Why not let me talk to them? I could have cleared my name, I haven’t done anything.” His blue eyes fell down to the singed cloth covering Ivan’s wound. “You wouldn’t have been hurt if I did.”

“You could have been convicted and I wouldn’t be able to get you back.” His eyes trailed after Alfred’s line of sight and frowned. “That attack hit you?”

“Yeah,” Alfred muttered. 

“In the chest?”

“Yeah?”

“And you did not feel any pain?”

Alfred shook his head. “No. It tickled maybe, but the only thing that was annoying was the traveling circle thing.”

Ivan’s brow was furrowed. He pushed back away from Alfred and Alfred watched curiously. 

“I want to try something.” Ivan said. 

“Okay…?”

“And it may hurt.”

“I’ll hit you if it does.” Alfred crossed his arms. “What is it?”

“I’m going to attack you with a spell. It will feel like a jolt of electricity, like when you plug in that lamp in the guestroom.”

Alfred smiled thinking of the horn colored lamp. It had been his grandmother’s and the wiring was old. “Okay. I trust you.”

Ivan hesitated before twisting his hand and bringing it down in a striking fashion. A flash of white exploded into his skin and Alfred blinked, touching his arm where the attack had hit him. “Is that it?”

“Did you feel anything?” Ivan was looking agitated, bringing his hands close to him. 

“No.”

Ivan pulled back, studying Alfred’s face intently. He looked pale, like he was going to roll over and vomit into the bushes. Alfred threw his arms out to steady him. “Whoa, big guy. What’s wrong?”

“You are not affected physically by magic.”

“Is that bad?”

Ivan opened his mouth as if to say something and stopped. He tensed and shook his head. “I do not know.”

Alfred fell silent for a moment, listening to the birds warble above them. “Is that why the deigol was collecting my blood?” He touched the sweater over the healing skin along his abdomen that always seemed to be cold. 

“No,” Ivan shook his head again and crossed his arms as he leaned up against the bark. “I didn’t know until now and I am married to you. How could a creature only capable of violence know this?”

Alfred didn’t have an answer. He stared at the forest, looking at the copper ground, the fragments of dead leaves and prickly pine needles. Blue shadow was burned away by the rays of light filtered through the canopy. “Let’s get your leg wrapped. You don’t want the scabs adhering to your pants.”

Ivan nodded and unbuckled his belt, pulling off the pants gently with Alfred’s help. The wound was blistered and red when Alfred finally peeled it away. He frowned, taking the gauze from his own first aid kit and wrapped it gently around the wound. He helped Ivan out of the pants fully, balling the fabric up and giving him the extra pair from the backpack. He stuffed the singed pants into the bag and helped Ivan up to put on the clean pants. 

When they were standing Ivan leaned in, treading his fingers into Alfred hair and stilling at the nape of his neck as he kissed him thoroughly, fear and relief feeding fading into hunger. Alfred grasped his waist with his left hand and pulled him in close, needing to be close, more than skin to skin. Alfred pressed him against the tree, letting it hold his weight as he kissed along Ivan’s jaw, feeling the pale stubble there and pressing his fingers against his hipbone. Purple bruises of exhaustion had settled under his eyes and it reminded Alfred that Ivan had probably not slept in over twenty-four hours. He pulled his hand from behind Ivan’s head, running his thumb against Ivan’s lower lip. 

“We should sleep. You’re in pain and exhausted.”

“I’d be less in pain if you continued to kiss me.” Ivan muttered with a smile. 

Alfred hummed, kissing his forehead, and then helped Ivan pull on the pants. 

“Usually we’re doing the opposite at this point.” Ivan winced at the way the fabric rubbed into the wound, despite the gauze.

“Yeah, well, when we have a bed again I’ll let you thoroughly ravish me.” He settled down onto the forest floor, laying out his sweater and backpack and pulled Ivan on top of him to rest his head. They were quiet, listening to the birds above. 

“I promise you Alfred, I’ll keep you safe.”

“I know,” Alfred muttered and dragged his fingers through Ivan’s pale hair. “And I’ll take care of you.”

 

***

 

Dusk was settling when Alfred awoke. Watery shadows had flooded the forest, dripping down from the trees and settling along the roots. Alfred sat up, realizing that Ivan was no long on him. Pulling out his phone, Alfred used the light of the lock screen to search. Ivan was standing by the edge of the brush, eyes bright when Alfred hit him with the electronic light.

“How did you sleep?” Alfred asked with a yawn. 

“Fine,” Ivan murmured and pulled back his cloak to deposit something into the small bag where he kept the tins for medicinal use. 

“Your leg?”

“It has been better, but I can walk on it. We should get going.”  
“Okay.” Alfred tied his sweater around his waist and shouldered the pack. The forest was surprisingly loud with birds chirping and the cascade of noise from insects calling to each other. The lack of sun had brought the cold breath of night against their skin. 

They began their hike down the mountain, Alfred using his phone until Ivan muttered a spell and a globe of orange light danced in front of them. He held onto Ivan tightly, not trusting his thigh to hold all of his weight. 

“So we’re fugitives now?” Alfred asked as he helped Ivan down a waterfall of rocks. 

“Yes.” Ivan pulled on a branch of a young birch to steady himself. “Until I can write to my sister and find out what is going on.”

“Katyusha or Natalia?”

“Katyusha. She is the most reasonable and will at least tell me why they believe you have committed treason.”

Alfred watched the light bobbing over them carefully and turned to Ivan. “Could I have committed treason?”

Ivan snorted. “No. How can you commit treason to a King you never pledged loyalty to?”

“Well treason isn’t just against the King, is it?” He nearly tripped over an exposed root and waited for Ivan to safely cross over it. 

“I know you and Natalia do not like each other, but that is not enough to warrant the slander of Treason to your name.”

“No,” Alfred shook his head and tightened his warm fingers along Ivan’s curled hand. “I meant you.”

“Me?” Ivan stilled. “How would you commit treason against me?” 

“I dunno, get you disowned?”

“You did not get me disowned.” Ivan growled. He pulled Alfred back so they could look at each other. Ivan’s face was hidden in shadow, the orange light barely touching his skin. “My father is not a good man, nor a good father. He is a decent King, which he may or may not be remembered for. He does not like anyone without magic because he believes they are weak and not worthy. We are not the same and I am glad I do not have to be pinned under his tutelage to take his place one day.” Ivan stroked the side of Alfred’s face. “The worst you have done to me is shove your dirty socks down my shirt.”  
Alfred’s face heated up at the memory. “That was because you made the house smell like rotting fish with that stupid experiment in the den!”

“It was not that bad.”

“I threw up three times.”

“You have a weak stomach.” Ivan shrugged. “I cannot be blamed for this.”

Alfred muttered under his breath as they continued to walk. They should have been close by now and it was a bit over two hours now they had been walking. 

“What I am curious about,” Ivan said, “Is why now? Why divert energy away from the deigol attacks to come after you?”

Alfred grabbed onto a tree to help Ivan over a fallen log and sighed when he finally saw the lights of the town glowing hazily against the underbelly of low hanging clouds. “Maybe they got new evidence?”

Ivan hummed. “Did something happen that you didn’t tell me about?” 

They both came out of the forest and to the edge of a road. Alfred sighed in relief and Ivan quickly snuffed out the globe of light. They walked hand in hand along the newly paved road, asphalt tickling Alfred’s nose. Alfred thought carefully and began to tick off what weird things had happened. “Well there was the deigol attack and the thing with my blood and the alarms that didn’t sound. There’s this new thing with the magic not hurting me, and the branch.”

“Branch? What branch?”

Alfred turned and wiggled his thumb and forefinger at him. “You know, the raspberry branch that cut me.”

“Why is that strange? They have thorns and you garden.”

Alfred shook his head, lowering his voice as they walked past a white wooden house. The lights were on inside and he could see the TV playing from the living room window. “No, I grabbed it because it looked rotten and black. I’d never seen that kind of blight on the plant. All the other shoots were perfectly green. When I brought it to the front door it was like it was ripped out of my hand. I bled everywhere. See? I have a small scar here from it.” Alfred showered him the pink line that ran down his thumb under the amber light of a streetlight. They were nearly in the small downtown, judging from the cluster of homes and what looked to be a former general store and a nearby Church. 

Ivan didn’t look down at the scar. Instead he gripped Alfred’s shoulder tightly and said, “Was this before the deigol attack?” 

“Yeah, it was when you called a meeting at the house, are you okay?”

“Who did you tell about this to?” Ivan said slowly. 

“Toris,” Alfred said. He frowned. “He thinks I committed treason because of a branch?” They paused by a small park, hidden in the darkness of a large oak tree. Across the street stars blinked from between the power lines, like music notes of a celestial elegy. 

Ivan was quiet, still staring at Alfred, but he could see a flicker of fear and pain cross his face. His eyes were dark in the gloom. “Toris went to my sister then.”

“I think he did say he’d ask someone. He’d never heard of it. Is it something bad?”

Ivan pulled Alfred close pressing their heads together and Alfred tensed as he heard Ivan’s breath hitch. “Alone, no.” He fell silent and then whispered, “The black branch is a sign of the Blackened, although it is usually more pronounced. As future leaders, we were taught the signs of the Blackened, so it makes sense that Toris would not know what it was. But my sister…she would know. She knows of the attacks as well.”

“Alright, so I don’t see what makes this so bad. I got my finger cut by a branch that the Blackened apparently touched? It’s not infected.”

Ivan seemed to struggle for words. He finally choked out, “No. It was a test. It used your blood to cancel the wards on the house. That way the deigol could get in and attack you. How long has it been watching you?” Ivan muttered to himself. He pulled away and held Alfred’s face between his hands. “And now I know you cannot be physically harmed by magic. You are something I have been ordered to kill on sight if I ever found it.”

“What?” Alfred said alarmed. “Ivan?” He tried to step back but Ivan kept him there firmly. Alfred’s heart beat firmly against his chest. 

“I know you’d never harm me or anyone,” Ivan said, brining his face close to Alfred’s again, thumb rubbing soothingly over his temple. “But Alfred, they will kill you without question if they find out. I won’t let that happen.”

“We’re already on the run,” Alfred said, letting his hand’s drift to Ivan’s shoulders. “I don’t even know what you think I am. Don’t say vampire,” Alfred said trying to eject poor humor into Ivan’s frighteningly somber mood. “I don’t think I can handle sparkling in the sunlight.”

“I think you are my heart,” Ivan murmured and kissed him. “And I will keep you safe even if I have to say goodbye.”

Alfred’s heart stopped. “Ivan?”

Ivan let go, and muttered a chant rapidly under his breath as his hands twirled in the darkness, pressing against Alfred’s temples before he could even take a step back. Like a string snipped, Alfred fell to the ground, only kept from hitting his head as Ivan lowered him down against the grass. His voice was locked in his throat. _You promised me_ , he suddenly wanted to scream, _you promised you would never use magic against me._

Ivan’s eyes gleamed wetly in the pale moonlight. “You will fall asleep Alfred. You will forget me, and you will know nothing of magic and monsters and you will live a normal life and die at an old age. I will not condemn you to a half life lived in fear. I will keep you safe and I love you eternally.” 

Ivan closed his eyes and Alfred wanted to scream. 

_“Sleep.”_

And Alfred did.


	8. New Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _New moon: When the moon is dark and at its lowest energy. A time of transition. Endings and beginnings._

Alfred awoke with a headache and a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Hey,” a deep voice said, “we’re getting off the bus. You need your passport.”

Alfred opened his eyes, coming to consciousness with a deep inhale of breath and blinked, unable to put together where he was. “What?” he asked, voice raspy with sleep.

“We’re at the border,” The teen repeated. He pulled his hand back and fixed the baseball cap he wore over cropped black hair, “You need to claim your bag and show your passport.” Alfred rubbed at his eyes and fixed his glasses, looking up at the teenager watching him. “You alright, man?”

“Yeah,” Alfred said and sat up in the chair. The dark eyed teen nodded and shouldered his backpack, walking down the aisle of the nearly empty bus. Alfred turned in his seat, looking out the window. Cars stood in line, queuing up to go into the slots of gates. Trees stood on either side of the building that stood in what looked like the middle of a highway, proudly bearing both American and Canadian flags. He rubbed at his head, wincing at the cotton feeling in his brain as his temples throbbed and grabbed the backpack at his feet before he walked down the aisle, stepping out into the warm daylight. He lined up with some of the other passengers, behind the teen that had woken him up and a portly woman who was fidgeting between having her passport open to the correct page and finishing the chapter of a small red paperback in her hands.

Alfred frowned and felt his phone in his pocket buzz. He took it out and glanced down, seeing it was a text from him brother. _A little warning would have been nice. When does your bus arrive?_ , it read. Alfred opened the phone confused and swiped through the recent text history.

****

**From: Alfred Jones**

_Hey, I need to talk to you [Sent: Yesterday, 11:02 pm]_

****

**From: Matthew Williams**

_Okay? [Sent: Yesterday, 11:07]_

_Should I call? [Sent: Yesterday, 11:20]_

_Al? [Sent: Yesterday, 11:53]_

**From: Alfred Jones**

_Sorry. You were right about Ivan. [Sent: Yesterday, 11:54]_

_I’m coming up to see you. [Sent: Yesterday, 11:59]_

_I’m taking a bus. I’ll be there in the afternoon. [Sent: Today, 6:03 am]_

****

**From: Matthew Williams**

_What happened? Are you okay? [Sent: Today, 8:17]_

_Al, you are so shitty at answering your phone [Sent: Today, 8:19]_

_A little warning would have been nice. [Sent: Today, 10:33]_

_When does your bus arrive? [Sent: Today, 10:33]_

Alfred stared at the messages, unable to remember sending them and then put his phone away as he came up next in line with the border agent.

“Good morning,” The woman said with a heavy Quebecois accent. “Passport?”

He startled at that and patted down his pants with quick hands, looking for his wallet. He pulled out his passport card where he always kept it in his wallet and frowned as he handed it over. “Sorry. Just woke up. Head’s not all there.”

She gave him a thin smile and checked the card. “Purpose of visit?”

“Visiting my brother,” Alfred said, remembering the text messages.

“Where are you going?” She handed him back the card.

“Montreal.”

“How long?”

“Uh,” Alfred paused, still feeling like his thoughts were trapped in cotton, unable to pull the sharp thoughts together. “About a week or two? Nothing long.”

“Are you bringing any guns or weapons?”

“No.” Alfred rubbed at his temple again. He needed to get Advil as soon as possible.

“Any foods you want to declare? Any wine beyond ten bottles or cash exceeding $10,000?”

Alfred shook his head. He ran his hand through his hair and looked down as he pulled pine needles away. “No.”

“Okay, sir. Have a good day.” She turned her gaze onto the next person in line and Alfred stepped off to the side. He stared down at the pavement, trying to put his thoughts in order. It felt like he had walked into a half formed spider web, cool tendrils covering his brain and ensnaring his thoughts in contrast to the hot pain that flashed through his head at every heartbeat, pushing those same thoughts away. He barely registered when they loaded back onto the bus, pulling out a ticket that was in his jacket pocket when he got on the Greyhound and stumbled back into his seat, almost falling asleep again as his back his the chair.

“Hey,” he mumbled to the woman that had stood in line in front of him. “Do you know when we’re supposed to arrive?”

She looked up from her book, cool blue eyes thoughtful as she brushed away long brown curly hair from her cheek. “I think about 12:30 as long as we don’t hit traffic at all.”

“Thanks,” he muttered, sending off the text to Matt quickly and promptly passed out as he shoved his phone into his jacket pocket.

***  


Alfred woke up with the bus driver announcing their stop. “Welcome to Montreal, ladies and gentlemen, and thank you for riding with Greyhound.” He sat up, rubbing at his neck and then his head. The headache had died down, but it was still there. He unloaded with the other passengers, and out onto the sidewalk, and shielded his eyes from the warm spring sun as he looked around. Matthew stood a few feet away, a cup of coffee in his hand and a half crumpled paper bag in the other.

“Hey,” Alfred said softly. Matt looked even with him, blue-gray eyes like winter shadows studying him intently. “I thought you were at work,” Alfred continued when his brother didn’t say anything.

“Right, because I get half cryptic messages in the middle of the night and I’m not going to come pick you up in a city you’ve never been to.”

Alfred frowned and looked down at the bag, his stomach growling pitifully. He couldn’t even remember when he ate last. “Please tell me that’s food.”

Matthew hoisted up the paper bag with a small grin. “I got some timbits for the ride to my place.” Alfred took the paper bag and smiled at the contents.

“You mean munchkins,” he said and picked out the small round chocolate donut.

“Not unless you want a good punch to the arm,” Matthew said and eyed Alfred, grin sobering. “Is that all your stuff?”

“Uh,” Alfred looked back at the bus and then to the backpack on his shoulder. “Yeah. I think so.” There was a swirl of something that hurt in his stomach, a cold unease. “Can we go?” he asked quietly.

Matthew frowned and took a sip of the coffee before offering the rest to Alfred, who took it happily. “Yeah, I’m parked down the street.” They walked down the street and Alfred kept his eyes on the pavement or the gray stone buildings that crowded either side of the quiet city street Finally they made it to Matt’s car, and Alfred sunk into the old blue Mazda that Matthew had bought long before moving to Canada. He looked fondly at the passenger dash, scuff marks from his sneakers back in high school still staining Matt’s otherwise pristine car.

“I thought you got a good job up here,” Alfred said as Matt started up the car. “Why are you still driving this piece of shit?”

“Because this piece of shit is paid off,” Matt replied and pulled out the parking space, driving easily through the streets and merging into traffic. “What’s going on, Alfred?”

Alfred looked at him, panic taking over him as he realized he had no idea why he was there. “I–“ he started and then felt his breath knock out of him and words well up in his throat. “Ivan left me.”

“What?” Matt hissed and turned to stare, eyes going back quickly to the road when he realized his mistake. “What the fuck?”

An image came into his mind, cold and resolute and so _wrong_ it made him want to throw up. He pushed the bag of donuts down and gripped his hands tightly. A memory of walking into their bedroom, seeing his husband with another man, bodies writhing naked in the dark. He couldn’t see Ivan’s face, but he knew it was him. Ivan would never, came the sudden thought and his head ached again. No. He remembered. Oh, _god_ , he remembered. Alfred pushed his glasses up to press on his eyes, because he was not going to cry, damn it.

“He cheated on me,” Alfred said flatly, “and he left.”

Matthew hissed a string of swears together that vacillated between English and French and settled on a tart, “fuck.”

“Yeah,” Alfred couldn’t look at his brother and instead looked out of the window. They drove past a park on a large sloping hill, and he watched old stone and brick townhouses dart by. “You must think I’m an idiot for falling for this twice,” he muttered, as the realization of what had happened came crashing down. How had his thoughts not been circling around this? Had he been so wounded by this betrayal that he had shoved it out of his mind until he could be with his brother and let himself fall apart? He circled around the memory, the darkness of it all, and it felt like touching broken glass.

“No,” Matt said as the car slowed down and came to a stop at a red light. “I don’t.”

“What the hell is wrong with me?” Alfred said to himself and could feel pinpricks of tears on the edge of his lashes. His throat constricted and he tightened his fingers, letting the edges of his nails press harshly into his skin. “James first and now this,”

“Ivan, for no small amount of how much I didn’t and don’t like him,” Matthew cut off harshly, “is not the same as what happened with James.” He stopped and looked at Alfred intensely. “Unless you aren’t telling me something.”

“Green light,” Alfred muttered. Matt turned silently and spurred the car forward. Silence filled the cabin. “No. He never touched me.”

“Good.”

Alfred let his hand relax and took a sip of the now lukewarm coffee. It helped his throat a little bit. He inhaled the bitter aroma and let the heavy scent fill his senses, burning away the hurt for one moment. He watched as they pulled into a spot on the street outside a brick townhouse. Matthew shut off the car and the two brothers sat in silence, listening to the cooling car in silence. “Let’s go inside and you can put your stuff away. Then we can talk.”

Alfred nodded and took the backpack he had stuffed by his feet out as he opened the passenger door. The air was heavy with the scent of garlic. He took a deep lungful, stomach growling again and turned to the left where a small Italian restaurant sat flush between the 70s era brick townhouses. “Tell me you’ve got stuff for lunch because I don’t remember the last time I ate was.”

“I’ve got leftovers in the fridge; Tikka Masala from Wednesday.” Matthew paused and locked his car, “Or we can grab something from Giorgio’s.”

“Leftovers are fine,” Alfred said and followed Matthew up to the townhouse with a dark brown door that looked black from the street, jingling his keys into the lock and followed up to the third floor apartment. Alfred scooted around a blue bike to get inside and found himself standing in the sparse living room as his brother locked up behind him.

“Is all you have is a couch and the TV?” Alfred asked with a small smile. Matt turned around, and pulled off the cardigan he had been wearing and hung it up by the door.

“I did just move,” he reminded his brother, pushing his long blond hair away from his eyes.

“Yeah, three months ago.”

Matthew shrugged and tossed the keys onto a small table near the door. “Hey, my roommate had all the furniture. Price of going solo finally.”

“Yeah,” Alfred said and sat down on the couch.

“Is that all you have?” Matt asked, gesturing to the backpack in Alfred’s hands. He stopped in unbuttoning his shirt cuffs and sighed. “I’ll be right back with your lunch.”

“If you have Advil, I’ll take that too.”

“Sure.”

Alfred hummed, half paying attention as Matthew walked behind him, heading to what he assumed was the apartment kitchen. He held his hands together, and for one minute it felt as if he moved, he would tear himself apart. Alfred took a long breath, letting his thoughts settle and ignoring how it felt like nails were rattling in the soft tissue of his chest and heart. How had this happened? He couldn’t remember seeing any warning signs. He let flashes of memories slowly slip by. Nights sitting in the dark next to one another, letting promises slip into the night to only be witnessed by the stars. Rainy mornings with bitter coffee and sweet tea paired with comfortable silence. Sunny afternoons, working in the damp dirt where nothing yet grew and listening to birds warble in the silences of their easy conversations.

Where had he missed the signs? Alfred looked at his phone and opened it. There was nothing from Ivan. Had he left without saying goodbye? For something so emotional, shouldn’t he remember every word? Alfred looked to see if there were any missed calls. There was nothing, save the most recent outgoing messages: one call to his brother two days ago and another to Ivan almost two weeks ago. He must have left in a haze, after seeing his husband in bed with someone else, grabbed the essentials and left the country to see his brother. When he had left James, he hadn’t really been himself. Maybe this was the same.

Alfred opened the bag and searched through the contents, only finding one change of clothes and a first aid kit in there. He looked at the red pack and stuffed it back in. Sounds of Matthew reheating the food in the background was comforting and Alfred relaxed slowly, listening to the microwave hum distantly. Eventually the room filled with the warm spices and Alfred looked up as Matthew brought over a bowl of the bright orange food.

“Rice might be soggy,” he apologized as he handed over the hot bowl with a spoon and gave him two tablets of Advil with a glass of water, which Alfred downed quickly. “But it’s still good.”

“It could have fallen on the floor and I would still eat it,” Alfred said and dug in with gusto. He let his eyes flutter shut. He looked up at Matt and said his thanks quietly and Matthew waited until he had finished the bowl and took it back, bringing back two bottles of beer and handed one over before collapsing into the opposite side of the couch, taking a long sip of the lager.

“So,” Matt said and hooked an arm over the edge of the sofa’s arm. “What happened?”

Alfred looked at the open bottle and began to tug at the paper label. “I remember walking in the house, I guess I was at work late. I kept the house dark and when I walked into the bedroom he was with another man.” Alfred paused, ready to end the story there and frowned as another memory simmered to the surface, oily and a mess of images. “I confronted him,” Alfred said as he played the memory though his mind. He could see it now. He had started yelling, unbearably hurt by the betrayal and Ivan telling him it was over without even a shred of shame or guilt in his eyes. It was almost unreal how uncaring Ivan had been about it. In the darkness of the first memory, the other man had been faceless. Now he could see him, and his brain put the fragments of the moment together to realize he had looked something like James. Alfred put the beer down. He wasn’t sure if he was going to throw up. “He told me it was over and I left. I came straight here to you. I don’t,” Alfred stopped and shame rushed red over his cheeks. “We weren’t even there for a year. I don’t have anyone there I could have stayed with.” There was always his own office he leased over the grocer, but he couldn’t have stayed there for more than a night. There was nothing there besides his laptop and tablet and a table. Alfred cursed as he realized his computer wasn’t with him.

Matthew considered him and shook his head as he looked to the floor. “I know we fight sometimes, but you are always welcome here Al. I’d never not let you stay.”

“Thanks, Mattie.” Alfred said and tore off a corner of the label. He still couldn’t swallow that this had happened. It felt like a bad dream. The was a visceral scream inside him yelling HOW COULD YOU DO THIS HOW COULD YOU LEAVE ME YOU PROMISED over and over that was so sharp it made his side hurt. He put a hand over his abdomen, half hugging his side. “I’m such an idiot. I thought I found–“ he stopped and thumbed the neck of the bottle, “the one,” he finished lamely.

“Okay, so Ivan turned out to be a piece of shit, and I’d kick his ass from here to Manitoba if I get the chance.” Alfred felt a smile quirk on his lips at that and Matthew huffed a laugh at seeing it. “But you’re not broken or something. Just because of what happened with you and James and now this with Ivan doesn’t mean you aren’t going to find someone who’s right for you.” Matthew took a sip of the beer. “Look, you went from absolutely shitty to pretty shitty. So the next one should only be somewhat shitty and that’s what most of us get anyway, so you’ll be fine. Third time’s the charm.”

Alfred snorted at that. “That’s some scale.”

“Yep.” Matt smiled and shrugged. “Look Al, what Ivan did is awful. Obviously you’re going to hurt for a bit and you’re going to be angry and sad, but when this is all over you’re going to get over him and forget everything about him because you’ll find someone’s smile that just eases all that pain and burns it away.”

Alfred started at his brother. “Did you take up poetry or something?”

“Shut up. I’m not wrong,” Matthew grumbled into the bottle.

Alfred took a long draught of the beer and sighed. “I have such a shit taste in men.”

“Yep.” He rocked the bottle between his fingers and shrugged.

“I just keep thinking what signs did I miss? What could I have done?” Alfred took another sip of the beer and swallowed against the wrongness curling through his stomach.

“Nothing.” Matt put his beer down to the floor and rested his head against his palm. “It’s not your fault.”

“I know it’s not,” Alfred snapped.

“No you don’t. It wasn’t with James and it’s not this time either. It’s not your job to stop people from being absolute dicks.”

“James was more than that,” Alfred said slowly. It was the most he had talked about the other man in such a long time. It felt good, in a horrible way. Like touching something too hot or cold and feeling it burn your skin and leave nothing but fuzzy numbness behind. He hadn’t even really talked to Ivan about James. It never felt like the right time. When they had met, Alfred had only just been out of that relationship for a month or two and admitting that had seemed like a terrible idea. Hell, his arm had only come out of its cast three weeks prior.

“Yeah, James has his own special place in hell.”

“Cheers to that,” Alfred said wryly and both men raised their beers and took a drink.

They moved to easier topics after that. Alfred wanted to push this all from his mind and not feel so raw inside for a bit. They caught up on Matthew’s new job (decent and it paid well), new restaurants they had tried (Himalayan food for Alfred, seafood for Matthew), and news about old friends (a girl Alfred had dated in high school was married and had a baby). Eventually they settled into watching TV silently and Matthew stepped outside to bring back food from the Italian restaurant next door. In the middle of eating his chicken alfredo, Matthew asked, “How long do you think you’ll stay here?”

“A week, maybe two?” Alfred ventured and felt a weight on his heart ease when Matthew nodded. “I have to go eventually for my things. My work stuff, my car, clothes.” He stopped and shrugged, “ I mean I guess it’s nothing I can’t replace.”

“What about Mom’s painting of the ocean?”

“You mean the one with the kid that looks like it was drawn by someone with their eyes closed?” Alfred chuckled when Matthew threw a crumbled napkin at him. “Yeah I guess there’s that. And the lamp from grandma and the baseball glove from my dad.” He stopped. “I don’t think there’s much else.”

Matthew chewed slowly on his mushroom cavatelli. “You don’t have to figure out what to do right now. Sleep on it.”

“Yeah. That’s a good idea,” Alfred said and looked at the chicken. He lost his appetite thinking about Ivan again. It was crazy, but the fact that he hadn’t heard from him was making Alfred worry. Alfred huffed at that and angrily stabbed the chicken. The cheater could take care of himself.

They finished dinner and threw away the trash and finished the night by watching Die Hard. Eventually Alfred felt himself yawning and the headache coming back. Matthew pointed him to the guest room and left sheets on the bed for him. Alfred quietly put on the maroon cotton sheets and gratefully took the quilt and pillow when Matthew came back.

Alfred walked into the bathroom and brushed his teeth, ignoring his reflection. He already knew his eyes were red and he looked terrible. When he changed into a pair of blue plaid pajamas and a white undershirt borrowed from Matthew, he stared at the barely healed cut along his side. Alfred moved closer to the light. There were still stitches, although they looked like they were nearly gone. A long red gash was barely knit back together and he ran his fingers along the edge of it. The skin was cold to the touch. “What the fuck? He asked loudly

“You alright?” Matthew asked from outside.

“Maybe?” Alfred said and stared at the cut. His heart was racing and he took a short breath. His headache throbbed and Alfred pulled his fingers from the cut and stepped away from the mirror. Oh. That’s right. He’d cut it falling off a ladder. How could he forget? “Yeah, it’s fine.”

“Okay,” Matthew said, sounding unconvinced.

Alfred tugged the shirt over the wound and stepped out into the hall, meeting his brother’s gaze. “Night Mattie.”

“Night Al. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Okay,” Alfred said and slipped away into the privacy of the guest room. He shut off the light and slipped his phone and glasses onto the bedside table before sitting on the edge of the bed and shoving his head into his hands.

He bit his tongue, trying to stop the tears and rubbed angrily at his eyes. No. This didn’t deserve tears! He was a cheating bastard and he wasn’t going to cry! Alfred’s throat clenched and he barely stifled a sob before he turned and fell into the bed, letting himself cry into the pillow, the sounds muffled by the fabric and feathers.

It hurt because all he could remember was all the good. He knew it should feel tainted, like it did when he (rarely) thought of James, but maybe it was because the full realization of betrayal hadn’t set in yet. He could still remember the little things, like how Ivan would make him coffee in the morning, or would pepper him with kisses when he was up at night, unable to sleep. How they would sit in the living room and talk by the firelight and how Ivan would take his hand some days and rub the back of his knuckles with his thumb.

Alfred fell asleep with a broken heart and trying to remember what Ivan’s eyes had looked like in the firelight.

That was the first night the dreams began.


	9. Waning Gibbous Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Waning Gibbous Moon: When the moon is leaving from being a full moon and begins its descent to the new moon. A time to clear out the old and prepare for the new and a time for repelling or decreasing._

_**A black shadow at the foot of his bed, tall and nearly touching the ceiling. Embers glow with each breath, packed tightly between ribs and glowing through leathery, stretched thin skin. It opens its mouth, unhinged, and fire drips out and sparks flee to the ceiling as it talks. The room catches fire.** _

Alfred awoke to sunlight on his eyes, dappled and warm like fingertips along his face. He rolled over and plucked his glasses off the side table, scrubbing at tired eyes with the back of his hand before he slipped the frames onto his face. His chest hurt and felt hollow and hot. He sighed and pulled the blanket off, stepping out onto the cold floor with a shiver. His head still hurt, but the headache was less, like someone using a rubber mallet rather than an ice pick. There was a clatter of dishes further in the apartment and Alfred opened the door to find Matthew putting a cereal bowl and mug into the sink.

“Morning,” Matt said, turning around and leaning against the counter. He was dressed in gray slacks, a white button down shirt and blue striped tie.

Alfred smiled, although it came out more as a grimace, and he waved his brother’s concerned look away while walking to the counter where an Advil bottle was laid out from the previous night. He shook two out and cupped his hand under the kitchen sink and washed it down with water. Alfred smiled as his morning greeting.

“I’ve got to go into work today,” Matt said, crossing his arms.

“Oh, yeah. Of course.” Alfred rubbed at his forearm and shrugged. “I’ll, uh, I guess I’ll stick around here today.”

“Are you sure?” Matthew’s brow furrowed as he watched his brother. “I should call out.”

“No.” Alfred smacked his shoulder weakly, pushing him to the slide gently as he grabbed a bowl and filled it with cereal. “You already took the afternoon off yesterday. I’m just going to relax here. Probably find my Zen and become one with the couch.” He filled the bowl with the milk left out on the counter. When Matthew looked unconvinced, he kicked at his calf. “Look, I’m kinda bummed out,”

“Kinda?”

“I’m just going to be moping around here. You wouldn’t want to be here anyway.”

With a sigh, Matthew uncrossed his arms and watched his brother carefully. Alfred took a spoonful of cereal. “Alright. Listen, if you need anything, just call me.” Alfred gave him a thumbs-up as he crunched on the cereal, staying silent as Matthew watched him. Eventually he frowned and shooed him off, muttering, “I’m fine, Mattie. Really. Well, as much as you can be, I guess.”

Matthew sighed and walked to put his shoes on, “Please call me if you need anything. Seriously, Al. Let me know.”

“Would you get out of here! Stop mother hen-ing and go to work.” Alfred pointed the spoon at Matt and then at the door. “Let me wallow in the dark alone and listen to terrible music.”

Matthew snorted at that as he perched on the arm of the couch to tie his shoes. “Fine. I’ll leave you some cash so you can get lunch, but I’m dragging you out to dinner so you can see some sunshine by the end of the day.”

“Fine, fine,” Alfred said with a smile and took another spoonful of quickly soggy cereal. He watched Matthew peter around the apartment until he was finally ready and grabbed his keys. “Alright.”

“Get outta here.”

Matthew waved and closed the door behind him and Alfred found himself in overwhelming silence. He stayed alone in the kitchen, chewing on the last bits of his breakfast and waiting for the headache to recede. He shut off the light above him in the kitchen and then emptied the last of the cereal in the sink, walked over to the couch and laid down, curling up so his face was pressed into the darkness of the cushions.

God, why did it hurt still? Shouldn’t he just be furious? Shouldn’t anger just be running though his veins, setting fire to any thought of Ivan and letting that justified burn warmly in his belly? Instead he could feel the ghost of soft hands on his shoulders and arms and head and warm whispers mouthed against his lips and face. He didn’t want to cry again, so he stayed resolutely dry eyed, staring into the darkness the cushions provided and slowly squeezed at the pillows.

He’d have to figure out how to start over. Again. Maybe he should try moving up to Canada like Matt had. Then again, he’d already been a dual citizen thanks to his dad. Alfred took a long chest aching breath and pressed his face closer to the cushion. California was out. Too many bad memories. Same with Florida. He’d been pretty happy in Virginia, maybe he should look there again? At least that way he wouldn’t have to worry about the fucking awful winters that New England got. He’d heard that the Pacific Northwest was nice though. Maybe he’d look into moving out there. He made lists in his mind to distract himself from thinking of Ivan, and it seemed to be working. Alfred counted out how soon he’d have to go home and gather his items. He’d have to line up some extra work to cover the rent he would have to pay when he formally moved out. He counted out how many boxes he’d need to move out. How much it would cost to drive with his truck out to either Washington or Virginia- he still hadn’t made up his mind yet.

His mind traveled back to eventually having to confront Ivan again– he had to get his stuff after all– and he could imagine what he would say, but somehow, Ivan stayed silent. He couldn’t imagine what he was going to say. Couldn’t even picture it. It was like he was talking to a gray shadow of a specter. He could see him, standing before him, and yet he couldn’t put the words there. He couldn’t even remember how his voice would sound. Alfred frowned and turned, looking up to the ceiling.

He felt like he was forgetting Ivan.

There was a part of him that didn’t want to. Not really. It was like touching an embedded thistle in his skin. The pain would flare up when he thought about everything too much, and yet he couldn’t stop because he was at least remembering him. Because he still loved him despite everything. And he hated that. He wanted to tell this to the specter in his mind, but found the words flat, half fizzed out like day old coke. Alfred turned again, this time to look out at the empty apartment and sighed again, reaching for the remote and let the television bleed his mind dry of the turbulent thoughts.

He fell into a restless sleep somewhere between a remodel show of old stone homes and a show spotlighting local coffee shops.

_**It’s like standing underwater and watching the waves crest and crash over you while the water presses your skin and body down, shaking you with a bodily ripple in the magnificent movement. You stand in a dark room. It’s hot. Red light trickles down, mottling your skin with welts of shadow. It’s dim. Your lungs burn and a shadow moves towards you with a long cooked finger beckoning you. The force around you keeps you in place and you cannot move. You cannot move. You try and scream and fire is breathed into your lungs, eradicating everything.** _

Alfred awoke with his headache gone. He felt better and sat up, turning off the TV. The silence of the room unnerved him for some reason, and he started humming to himself, padding over to the bathroom to take a shower. He closed the door behind him and locked it, before he turned on the spray and stripped as he waited for the water to warm up. He leaned against the vanity, hissing when his bare hip touched the cold counter. He pressed his fingers against his abdomen, looking at the pink scar running up his side, touched the edge of one of the stitches, and pulled his fingers away. The skin was cold to the touch, although it didn’t feel any different to him beyond the cool surface. He wondered briefly if he should go see a doctor about the remaining stitches. Alfred furrowed his brow. He didn’t even remember seeing a doctor for them in the first place.

Shaking his head, Alfred wondered if he was loosing his mind. Maybe the shock of everything was messing with him? He stepped under the spray and closed his eyes, felt his chest rise and fall painfully as he breathed in the steam. Alfred reached for the shampoo, lathering the dollop into his hair and staring at pine needles that had apparently been stuck in his hair. How the hell had they gotten there? Unease settled into Alfred’s stomach as he continued to lather and rinsed. He quickly washed down using Matt’s body wash and let the hot water sluice over his skin, taking comfort in the warmth that was drummed into his muscles.

Somewhere he lost track of time and the water went cold. Alfred stepped out and dried off with one of the white towels hanging up on the hook on the wall. He wrapped the towel around his waist, took one last look at the angry pink line running up his side, and walked out to get a change of clothes. The only extra clothing in his bag was similar to what he had been wearing yesterday. He’d have to do laundry and buy some more clothing. Maybe Mattie could show him where to go. He shimmied on the clean underwear and jeans and sat on the edge of the guest bed, rubbing the towel over his wet hair when his cell phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Al. Just checking in.”

Alfred smiled and lay down on the unmade bed. “You’re a worry-wart, Mattie.”

Matthew hummed over the line and there was the shrill sound of an office phone ringing over the speaker. “You make me go gray with all the stupid shit you’ve done. It’s habit.”

Alfred chuckled softly. Wasn’t that true. He never seemed to make the right judgment call. “Yeah, sorry.”  
“Well you can actually make it up to me by taking out the trash for me.”

“Oh, so that’s really why you called,” Alfred teased and pulled his shirt over his head, walking out of the room and towards the kitchen.

“It was time efficient to do both. Make sure you’re not sitting and crying in the dark–”

“I’ll have you know the blinds are half open.”

“And that you can take out the trash. It’ll be the bin with my apartment number in it. It should already be a city bag, so no worries. Make sure you don’t lock yourself out.” Matthew added.

“Okay,” Alfred said, tying the garbage bag.

“And don’t forget we’re going out for dinner tonight. This doesn’t count as your forced exile from wallowing in the house.”

“Man you are brutal when it comes to getting over breakups.” Alfred pulled the garbage out, heading towards the apartment door as he balanced the cell phone between his shoulder and head.

“Yeah, well, last time it was bad. Maybe by forcing you outside and socializing you’ll move on faster. He doesn’t deserve you being sad over him.”

“Thanks.”

“Yeah, anyway, I’ll call you later about more details for dinner. Later, Al. And thanks.”

“No problem Mattie,” Alfred said and hung up. He slipped the phone into his pocket and made sure to check that the apartment door was left unlocked. Outside was miserable. Where the world had been warm and sunny yesterday, today blue bellies of clouds scrapped against trees as they threatened the world with rain. A cold wind tore through the streets and Alfred rubbed his arms as he turned and walked towards the side of the building, looking for the trash bins.

If Alfred had never visited a city before he would have called the crevice between the buildings an alleyway. He deposited the trash into the bin, wondering briefly if he needed to drag the sour smelling bin to the road for pickup. A trash bin further down which was obscured by the shadow the building casted quietly shuddered. Alfred looked at it curiously, waiting for a cat to meow or hop onto the open rim. When all stayed quiet, Alfred shrugged and backed away. When he turned the corner, he looked back and swore he saw a dark shape move down low on the ground. It was too big to be a cat. Maybe a dog? Was it hurt? It didn’t look like it was moving like a dog normally would. Alfred waited to see if the animal would move more, wondering if he should go over and coax it out.

Eventually when the shadow stayed still, he decided it had been a combination of a trick of the light and shadows. There was no way an animal would stay that still for so long. Alfred rubbed his arms again to ward off the cool spring air and hurried back into Matt’s apartment. As soon as he shut the door behind him though and found himself locked into the silence of the room, he itched to be back outside with other people. If he were home he would have just grabbed his keys and started up his truck, but here all he could do was walk outside and lock himself out. He didn’t have a key. He muttered to himself about the cold air and settled back onto the couch bodily that left the poor springs squeaking.

Alfred watched the shadows along the ceiling grow long. He watched the dips of the imperfectly painted sheetrock seemingly buzz with the energy of the dying light, crawling slowly towards him like small blue beetles. He shut his eyes, contemplating what should have been said, what he never said. He yelled angrily at the gray specter in his mind, watched as he poured his heart out to the mute image of Ivan standing in front of him until he didn’t even know why he was yelling.

He fell into a half doze, just barely on the cusp of sleep where his body felt warm and incorporeal. His finger twitched, hanging off the side of the couch as he heard his name softly spoken.

“Alfred!”

He blinked, pulled to attention, and rubbed at his stubbled cheek, listening to the rasp of skin and hair in the silent apartment. He fixed his glasses, which had become skewed from his descent to sleep. Alfred yawned, stretching his arms until his side tugged hotly with the ache of healing skin and sat up when he heard his brother’s voice.

“Al?”

“Matt?” He called back, looking about the room. The apartment wasn’t that large. He expected to hear something more, like the padding of bare feet or the clinking of dishes, but the apartment stayed stagnant.

“Al?” he heard again, fainter, and from his room.

“You okay Mattie? I didn’t even hear you come in.” Alfred pulled himself away from the cozy embrace of the couch and walked to the guest bedroom. He crossed his arms, feeling the chill of the damp air seeping in and frowned at the open window. It faced the alleyway and the muffled sounds of cars puttering along the street blew into the apartment along with a low gust of wind that made the curtains shudder. “Matt?” He asked again, seeing that his brother wasn’t in the room.

His phone rang and Alfred spun to face his bed, startled by the sudden shrill sound. With a chuckle at his jumpiness, Alfred snatched the phone from the bed and answered it, shutting the window tightly without looking at it. “Hello?”  
“Hey, Al. How you feeling?”

“Mattie,” Alfred said and smiled, lying down on the bed with a thump as he kept the phone tucked to his ear. “Alright. Only listened to sad music and cried half the day. What’s up?”

“We’re going to a Japanese restaurant around the block, do you want me to pick you up or do you think you can walk there?”

“I think I can handle a block, Matt.”

“Great. I’ll text you the directions. Meet me there in half an hour? So if you need to put pants on, now’s the time to do that.”

“Sure. Sounds good. I’ll see you then.”

When Alfred hung up he glanced at the phone and frowned. Maybe Matt had somehow called him and that’s how he had heard his voice? Phones were weird sometimes. Alfred swiped through some emails and swore when it suddenly died. It had nearly been full charge! Alfred glanced at the brick in his hand and sighed. Electronics on the fritz always had a way of screwing everything up. He burrowed into his bag and looked for his charger, pulling it out and paused. He pushed the lip of the backpack towards the light of the window to see it in better.

It looked like it had been burned into the fabric, a coiled snake of a symbol looping upon itself three times and seemingly staked to the fabric with a final bold line. “Huh.” Alfred muttered. He pulled out his charger and looked at the symbol one last time. He didn’t exactly remember that being there before, but he must just not have noticed it before. After all, it wasn’t like some crazy guy went into his backpack to burn a mark onto his stuff and not touch any of the items inside. Alfred sat on the bed and plugged the charger into the wall, waiting for it to come back on.

The phone turned on after about five minutes, along with the text for directions to the restaurant that Matthew had sent. He pocketed the phone and grabbed his sweater and toed on his shoes before grabbing his wallet and left the apartment, locking the door behind him.

It had warmed up considerably since early afternoon when he had taken the garbage out. It was humid and the air clung to his skin and pushed at the air in his lungs. He finished pulling on his sweater and glanced at the directions on his phone before heading up the hill of the street and under the pale green leafy trees that lined it on either side. Alfred glanced up at the sky and hummed. It felt good to be out. It was like being in the outside world let him forget everything. It was like he didn’t even have to remember about Ivan.

The sun was low on the horizon, and blocked by the townhomes. Streetlights were already turning on, although the sun was still illuminating the day with soft honeyed yellows and sparkling orange. Alfred took a left at the end of the street, jogging through the lull of traffic. Ahead of him near the end of the street by the intersection lights, a storefront with a red neon sporting ‘sushi’ could be seen. Alfred tucked his hands into his pants pockets as his stomach growled and smiled as thoughts of sushi rolls danced through his head.

“Alfred!”

Alfred stopped and turned to the mouth of an alley. “Matt?” He grabbed his phone to make sure it wasn’t a cell phone call like earlier.

“Alfred! Come over here!”

He stepped into the alley and walked along the stone building, looking around the edge of the dumpster under a wrought iron fire escape. “Matt? What’re you doing back here?” Further down was a stone overpass connecting the two buildings on either side, winged by large wooden doors. It was stately looking alley, all things considered. The back of the alley sat in a pool of midnight and Alfred stopped at the edge, the hair on the back of his neck prickling in warning. “Matthew?”

“Over here!” Matthew called from the shadows. Alfred could see a silhouette kneeled near the edge of the wall.

Alfred wasn’t sure what was stopping him. He should be running over to his brother and seeing what was wrong, but he couldn’t stop that awful feeling inside his gut telling him that something was wrong. He fumbled for his phone, and switched on the light.

It looked like something out of a horror movie with abnormally long limbs curled onto itself, wrapped around India ink skin that dyed the emaciated and twisted torso. Wide white eyes stared back hungrily, and its smile was gashed wide across its face, teeth gleaming in the artificial light.

Alfred stepped back and the creature in front of him unwound its long limbs fluidly, standing on twisted legs and loomed in the shadows of the alley. It’s smile grew and Alfred stopped breathing. “Alfred,” It said softly in Matthews voice and he felt his stomach drop.

“Fuck,” Alfred said back and took another step back and suddenly the creature in front of him lunged at him with a screech. Long nails glinted like razorblades and Alfred was slammed into the stone of the building. His head hit the stone and he saw brilliant white stars. Hot breath hit his neck as the clawed fingers pressed tightly against him, stopping him from feebly escaping as his vision swam.

There was an explosion of gas blue electricity, and the creature screamed loudly in his ear. The pressure of the body looming over him was gone and Alfred slid down the wall, blinking against the bright light. There was another flash of light and Alfred listened to a wet and sickening thump, the curled and extinguished guttural cry of someone came from near his feet and then the world fell silent.

Alfred winced against the pain in his head and squeezed his eyes tight, despite the urgency thrumming through his blood to get away. All he could hear was his breathing, harsh and unsteady until cool hands touched his jaw. His eyes flew open and Alfred stared back into a soft brown gaze.

“Are you okay?” the woman across from him asked. Brown almond eyes were crinkled in concern and Alfred blinked, pushing away her hands. She stood back and Alfred stared down at the ground and saw a still claw extended towards him. He scrambled away, feeling the grit of the ground below him bite into his palms “It is okay. You are not in any more danger,” the woman said softly and stepped away.

He stared at the thing, blue blood like midnight rolling out of its chest and pooling onto the ground. He gulped down a gasp and stared at the woman. “What the hell was that?”

“A monster. But it cannot hurt you any more.” The long thin cardigan she wore was tugged softly in the breeze and wrapped around her thighs. She pulled out a cell phone, swiping at the soft blue screen in front of her face and Alfred watched as five marble sized balls of fire danced out from it, bouncing slowly until it encircled the corpse. “Do you need help to get up?”

“No,” Alfred said as he still sat splayed on the ground. He tilted his head back and looked up at blue twilight. With a grunt he used the wall to steady himself and stood up slowly. “Thank you?” he hazard. His heart drummed loudly in his head and everything was screaming in him to get away.

“You are welcome.” The woman threaded her fingers through short black hair and began to tap on her phone again. A light from a passing car casted her face into relief and illuminated the splatter of blue against her clothes and skin. Alfred bolted. He ran past her, nearly tripping over the corpse of the monster that had tried to kill him and ignored her sudden exclamation to stop and wait. He ran as quickly as he could and lunged for the doors to the sushi restaurant, breathing hard as he shored up against the wall and stared into the soft glow of a carp tank.

“Where the hell have you been? I was about to organize a search party.” Matthew called from a table in the corner. Alfred stared at him blankly and stumbled over, taking the drink menu with shaking hands. “Al?”

“Nearly go hit by a car,” he mumbled with the first lie that came to mind. Because he wasn’t sure how to explain that he had faced off with a nightmare parrot demon that had been talking in his brother’s voice and saved by a petite Asian terminator goddess.

“Oh, well, I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Me too.” Alfred said and flagged down the waiter. “Beer, please.”


	10. Full Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full Moon: When the moon is at its fullest.When the night is at it's brightest. It is a time growth and spiritual development. A time to heal.

Alfred stumbled into the darkened guest room after wishing his brother good night, falling onto the bed as the springs groaned. He shut his eyes, breathing through the cotton bedspread as he let his thoughts catch up. Dinner with Matt had softened his nerves from earlier, when the creature had been slaughtered by the small woman in the alley. He still didn’t know what it was, but something lurched in his stomach every time he thought of the wide white eyes or the blue pool of blood along the asphalt. 

Matt had asked about how he was doing, what with the breakup, and it had taken a minute for Alfred to remember just what he was talking about. It felt like a lifetime ago. He barely remembered anything about it. He didn’t think about Ivan. In fact, if Alfred tried really hard, he could even remember what the color of his eyes were. It felt hard to even remember his name. 

Alfred could feel a headache coming on and huffed, rolling to his side. What did it matter? He didn’t really feel anything when it came to his now Ex. What was the point of remembering? Warm spring air curled around his bare feet, and Alfred shivered, pulling the blanket from the side of the bed over his legs. Wait, why was the window open?

Alfred sat up, untangling himself from the warm covers and looked at the soft illumination of the window. He had closed it, hadn’t he? “You’re loosing it,” he muttered to himself and stood up, padding softly to the window and shut out the warm spring night air. He turned, and noticed the silhouette sitting in the chair in the corner. 

“What the fuck?” He asked, stepping back. The silhouette stood, stepping into the ash colored city light. It was the small woman from earlier. From the attack in the alley.

She pressed a finger to her lips and tapped at her phone. A starburst of amethyst light hopped around the room, settling like starlight along every surface. She tapped at her phone again, and a warm orange light lazily floated out. Frowning, she said something not in English and the light swerved, as though ordered, and bobbed faster to the center of the room. “Hello,” she said softly in English and adjusted the light cardigan she wore. “We need to talk.”

“Sorry, but what the fuck are you doing in here,” Alfred said, backing away to the door. “Matt?” he yelled, not taking his eyes of the stranger. Blue still splattered her clothes. He took out his phone, ready to call the police, and watched with dread as the phone flickered, dimmed, surged brightly, and promptly died. 

“He can’t hear you,” she said.

His stomach lurched. “What did you do to him?” Alfred hissed. Adrenaline burned in his veins. His hands shook. 

Her eyes widened and waved a hand. “No, I have not done anything! I am not here to hurt.” She pointed at the amethyst light. “See? This stops our voices from carrying. No one outside this room can hear us.” She held up her hands, showing no harm was intended and slowly bent down to put her phone on the ground. Alfred could see a complicated mandala like design glowing on the screen. 

“Don’t come closer,” Alfred said when she shifted. She nodded and sat down in the chair, the blue light of her phone illuminating a oval face with thin pink lips and studious brown eyes. She tilted her head, considering him, and then spoke to the light bobbing in the center of the room. The orange light bobbed towards his head and he ducked, avoiding it. The light swerved and chased him. 

“Please, stay still,” she giggled as Alfred kept avoiding the light. “It will help you. Your neck is hurt. As is your head, I think”

“What?” Alfred said and stopped, sucking in a breath as the light stopped and settled against his skin. He shut his eyes, and opened them in surprise as warmth flooded his skin, pulsing like the purrs of a cat. “Uh,” he muttered, standing still. 

“It is alright. It will heal you,” the woman reiterated. “My name is Sakura.”

“Alfred,” he said. He didn’t want to move and stood stiffly in the center of the room. 

“Alfred,” she confirmed and dipped her head. “You were attacked by something called a deigol in the alley. I had been tracking it ever since it came within the barrier limits. It was stalking you all day, did you know?”

“What?” Alfred said weakly. That thing had been following him? Watching him? What about Matt? 

“Yao had noticed the deigols acting differently recently. He said that they have never done anything like this. They certainly have never gone after a mundane like you. They survive off of the blood of Magicians. They have no need to kill someone like you.” She folded her hands and crossed her ankles. “Deigols have been swarming the barrier limits and no one knows why. It is strange times.”

Alfred wasn’t sure if he was supposed to add anything to the conversation. “Why are you telling me this?”

She shrugged. “After I heal your neck and head, I will erase your memory of this meeting. But please know, as a member of the Crimson Cranes, I will watch over your house and keep you from harm.” She placed a lithe hand over her heart, as if swearing an oath. 

“Crimson Crane? Is that some kind of gang?” Did Canada even have gangs? He’d have to ask Matt. 

Sakura hummed and tucked a short strand of dark hair behind her ear. Alfred could see a small cat earring glitter in the light. “Perhaps. We are those who protect the city from the dangers the Courts cast aside or ignore. We have sworn to watch this city.”

“Oh,” Alfred said, because he didn’t know what to say. Courts had cast aside? Was this a jail thing? Some sort of vigilante justice thing? He blinked, realizing the warmth had left his neck and moved to the back of his head where he had hit it against the wall when the deigol had attacked him. 

Sakura stood up, walking across the room silently and looked up to examine his neck. She frowned. “It didn’t heal,” she murmured. Her brown eyes narrowed. 

“That’s alright, I can just go see a doctor tomorrow.”

“No,” she said and took his jaw in her cool hand, tilting his head so she could examine the bruised skin that had been hidden under his shirt collar. His heart sped. “You do not understand. This should have healed.”

“Really, It’s okay,” Alfred said, pulling her hand off of him. He waved at the light at the back of his head, swatting at it as though it were a fly. 

She stared at him and then whispered softly. The light came bobbing back and trailed over to her phone, before dissolving into the screen. She grabbed his arm with surprising strength and pulled him down to the bed, pressing down on his chest and aligning her fingers to his temple and forehead. “Please do not move.”

“Whoa, what?” Alfred said and attempted to move. She muttered under her breath and Alfred felt his headache worsen. But then she released him and stepped away. He propped himself up on the bed and stared at her. 

“You will forget everything I said. You will not remember me. You will fall asleep.”

Alfred waited a second and looked around the room before looking back at Sakura. “When?”

She looked startled. “What?”

“When? I mean, am I supposed to feel sleepy or something? Am I supposed to forget your name?” Alfred sat up and adjusted his glasses. He didn’t feel tired at all. 

“Why does it not work on you?” she said, and Alfred thought he heard frustration in her voice. He stood up from the bed and rubbed the back of his head. He took a step towards the door. 

Sakura picked up her phone from the floor and Alfred went to try and open the bedroom door, finding it locked and unable to move. “Do not bother,” she said, not looking up from the electronic. “It will not open.” There was a faint smile as she looked up when Alfred sighed in resignation and slid down the door, letting his head tap back against the door. He winced. Alfred reached up at touched where his head had been slammed against the alley wall. There was a little blood there, though it was tacky and nearly dried. 

“Are you a Magician?” Sakura asked. Alfred looked up and shook his head. She stepped towards the window, looking out at the city night. 

“No.” When she turned to look at him, brown eyes narrowed again, Alfred stood up from the floor. “Look, I’m not going to say anything. I just want to go to bed. No one would believe me anyway.” 

She stepped forward and shook her head, arm outstretched as she stalked closer. “I’m sorry.”

Alfred’s eyes widened and he pressed himself against the door. “Wait, no seriously! I won’t say anything!” When she didn’t say anything but continued towards him with grim determination, Alfred turned and tried the door again. 

It opened. 

He lunged out, nearly falling to the floor of the dark living room before scrambling up. Brilliant red light soared past his face, bursting into a wall of fire in front of him. He skidded to a stop, staring at the flamed licking upwards before turning to look at Sakura. 

Matthew’s door opened, confusion flickering over his face before he stepped out, staring at his brother and then the small assailant walking towards them. “Alfred are you okay? Wha–“ He was cut off as Sakura cursed softly and sent soft green light to him. Matthew sagged to the floor and his eyes fluttered close. 

“Matt!” Alfred cried and rushed to his brother. He didn’t seem harmed, just unconscious. Sakura walked past them as Alfred looked over his unresponsive brother. She stopped in front of the flames, extinguishing them with a flick of her hand. No marks were left. She turned and tapped at her phone, looking down in what Alfred thought was pity. He held his brother close. Bared his teeth as he growled, “What did you do?” 

“He’s only asleep. He won’t remember any of this. He is not hurt. I promise.” She stood in front of them and sighed. “Messy,” she murmured to herself. Finally she crouched down and looked at Alfred in the eyes. “I need you to come with me. We can do this the hard way or the easy way.”

Alfred glared at her. 

*******

They ended up doing it the hard way. It was understandable, or at least Alfred thought so. Who wouldn’t fight a woman who had snuck into their house and rendered their brother unconscious with mysterious lights? She claimed it was magic. Alfred claimed she was a trespasser and as soon as his phone worked he was calling the police. Sakura looked amused at that, and then had promptly tied his hands behind his back. 

It was a little embarrassing to be taken down by such a small woman, but she was faster, and stronger, and knew how to fight– really fight, not the half-assed tosses Alfred had learned back in high school. She looked embarrassed about the whole situation and apologized as she texted on her phone to someone. “It is usually easier than this,” she offered and then pointed the screen of her phone down. A white circle appeared on the floor. She pulled Alfred into it and began a steady stream of words. A chant. 

The smell of burnt cinnamon filled his nostrils and Alfred coughed, swearing as he felt the world lurch and churn around him. He felt as though he were being pressed between two hands. Too tight. He couldn’t breathe. He chest couldn’t expand. And suddenly the world righted itself and Alfred fell to his knees, taking deep gulping breaths. He vision swam and he blinked. A hand fell on his shoulder and he looked up at Sakura. Her face was pitched in worry. 

“God damn,” he groaned, “What was that circle?”

“A transportation circle. All Magician’s use them. We are at Yao’s place.” She helped him stand up and he stumbled. Sakura pulled on his bindings and led him to a gray stone building, stopping at a forest green door before pushing it open. They walked through the passage, and Alfred noticed the candles lining the stone wall. 

They walked into a silent courtyard. The cobblestones and greenery painted blue by the night. Sakura led him to another door and up a winding staircase, stopping only at a deep crimson door on the third floor. She opened it up, leading Alfred inside and shut the door, locking it. She turned and removed the bindings around his wrists. He rubbed at them, and felt satisfaction at seeing guilt flicker in her eyes. “This way,” she said softly. 

It was an apartment, dimly lit by lights beyond the hallway. Sakura toed off her shoes and waited for Alfred to do the same before leading him down the hall. The apartment was painted red, with soft ink etched scenery framed along the wall. They turned the corner and Alfred saw a man standing by the open window, bare chested as he pet a soft gray pigeon perched on the windowsill. 

His face was all angular planes and framed by glossy raven hair that hung past his shoulders, touching the start of a burn scar that mottled the skin of his chest and dripped down to his hips on the left side. Dark eyes looked up from the pigeon and he turned to face them, obviously surprised. The pigeon flew away.

“Sakura?” He asked. He walked over to the small table pressed in the corner, picking up a shirt and pulled a black henley over his toned frame. He crossed his arms, considering Alfred for a moment before motioning for them to sit down. “You should have mentioned we had a guest,” he said, clearing away the pens and ink scattered over the tabletop. 

“I did,” she said sourly and took a seat at the table. Alfred stayed standing. She watched him before turning back to the man. “I texted you,” she continued. 

“Ah, you know I don’t use that phone very much,” the man said. He motioned for Alfred to sit. “Please, I’ll make us all something to drink.”

“This is a really nice kidnapping so far,” he said to Sakura, taking a seat furthest away from her. Her cheeks flushed. 

“Kidnapping?” The man said, stopping his walk to the kitchen. 

“I had to– He would not– Yao, magic did nothing!” Sakura stumbled over her words, cheeks bright pink. 

Yao stared at Alfred with such intensity that he turned and looked away to the open window. After a moment, Yao continued to the kitchen, the sound of water pouring and the clattering of a kettle loud in the otherwise silent apartment. Yao came back out with three cups, placing in front of Alfred and Sakura before holding his own in his hands. He rolled the ceramic and turned to the woman seated at the table. “Please explain.”

Sakura sent a furtive look to Alfred and turned back to Yao. “He was attacked by a deigol, which I killed. It was the one you sent me after last night. I went to heal him and erase his memory of all that had happened. It did not work. I used the silence barrier to keep in the room and when he touched it a second time it vanished. I had to stop him from fleeing and going to the police.”

“And you knocked out my brother,” Alfred snapped. There was a lot of shit he would put up with, but attacking his family was not one of them. 

“I put him to sleep. I did not want things to be messy,” she said. 

Yao stopped rolling the cup between his hands and tilted his head. He looked like a bird staring at a worm, Alfred thought. His face felt hot. “Healing didn’t work on him?” Yao said. 

“No,” Sakura said. 

“And he touched the barrier you made and it vanished? Was there residual energy?”

“It was like it had never been there. It wasn’t a hole created. It just was gone. Suddenly.”

Yao turned on the apartment lights more and walked over to Alfred. “Where did he touch it?” Yao asked, looking Alfred over. He risked under his breath and told Alfred. “Your head was bleeding. I think it has stopped.” Alfred nodded. “Let me get you some ointment. It will help with any pain you may have and clean the wound.”

“It’s not going to be anymore of that light, will it?” Alfred asked. 

“No,” Yao chuckled and moved to the kitchen as the kettle began to whistle. “No, this is what Sakura would call ‘useless mundane medicine’.”

“I never called it that,” Sakura huffed. She pulled out her phone and began texting. Yao came back out with a tea pot and a small clear jar of what looked like waxy yellow paste. 

“Here,” Yao offered, sliding the jar to Alfred. “Dab this on the wound. It will help.”

“Uh, thanks.” Alfred said and unscrewed the jar. He hesitated and watched Yao lean over the table, dipping his finger into the paste, and rubbed it onto the top of his hand. Alfred stared at it a second more and then dipped his own fingers in, gingerly dabbing it at the cut on his head. Damn, that hurt. He wiped the residue of the cream off onto his jeans. 

“Hands, back, head, I think” Sakura answered Yao’s original question. “He touched it once and then slid down the door when he realized he couldn’t get out. Then Alfred tried again and it was gone.”

Yao hummed and poured out the tea into his and Sakura’s cups. He silently offered it to Alfred who shook his head. He put the tea down, in reach of Alfred, and sat next to Sakura at the table. 

“And you said the deigol attacked him?” Yao took a small sip of the tea. 

Sakura nodded, brushing her dark hair back behind her ears. “It lured him into an alley using mimicry, and then tried to kill him.”

Alfred shuddered, thinking of the black skinned creature that had attacked him. “It sounded like my brother. It knew my name.”

“It has been listening to you,” Yao said. Alfred frowned. Nausea at the idea of that thing skulking around Matt’s house brimmed in his throat. “They can only sound like that of which they have heard.” Yao stood up and paced the length of the apartment, disappearing into shadow at the end where Alfred assumed a living room was, and then reappeared into the light of the kitchen. “Why would a deigol attack a Mundane? Why would it breach the our barrier and possibly be killed by Magicians to stalk a single man?” The apartment fell into silence as Yao and Sakura thought. Alfred rubbed his hands over his jeans, nervous.

Yao stopped next to Alfred. “I would like to try something. What Sakura has said about magic not working is concerning. It isn’t something I have heard since I was a child.”

“Like what?” Alfred asked, suspicious. 

“It will not hurt, I promise.” Yao turned to Sakura who held out her arm. A sparkler of pink light flared in his open palm and he pressed it to her skin. Sakura giggled as the light scurried up and down her skin, and then dissipated. “It only tickles.”

Alfred looked over Sakura's arm. She was unharmed. Yao turned to him, pushing his hair back over his shoulder. "Well?" He prompted. 

Alfred hesitated, realizing that it would come down to him being tested upon. He was being the chance to do this willingly. He stuck out his arm, as though waiting to be vaccinated. Yao gave a soft smile and the pink light fizzled brightly in his open palm. He placed it against Alfred's skin. The light fizzled out, dimming as though having water poured on. The light did not dance. He did not feel anything. 

"Is that it?" Alfred chanced when no one spoke. 

"You are a Broga" Yao said finally. 

"A what?" Sakura and Alfred asked simultaneously. He glanced at her, but her brown eyes were trained on Yao. Intense. Worried. Alfred swallowed down the nausea of fear brimming in his stomach. 

He seemed to be doing that a lot lately. 

"A Broga," Yao continued taking his cup and filling it to the brim with tea, "is a being who is not affected by magic."

"There's such a thing?" Sakura asked.

"Well that doesn't sound too bad." Alfred said. 

Yao raised a brow at that. "No, maybe not to you." He tapped his finger on the table, drawing lines in the condensation the tea left behind. "But there is a prophecy we are all told in the form of children's songs about your existence being the sign of our deaths."

Alfred stared at him. "What the hell kind of songs do you let your kids sing? I don't want to hurt anyone. I just want to go home and check on my brother and maybe sleep."

"I won't stop you. You can leave at any time."

"What?" Sakura snapped. Yao glanced at her and she fell silent, looking down to her hands.

"But you should know," he continued, "that by leaving right now you are refusing my help and I will not protect you from other creatures that may come after you." 

Alfred lifted his chin defiantly. He wanted to tell him to fuck off, he could handle himself. But Matt, well, he couldn’t do that to him. He didn’t even know what was out there lurking. 

Alfred didn’t move and Yao took that as a sign of cooperation. “You should know as well there is a spell over your mind. It is muddling with your thoughts.”

“I thought you just said I wasn’t affected by magic.”

“I did, didn’t I,” Yao said thoughtfully. “But here you are, with a spell over your mind.”

“Well then I can’t be a Broga–or whatever, by your own logic.”

“There are different types of magic, friend.” Yao said. He leaned back in his chair, and tangled his fingers though his hair, gathering the glossy stands together and looped a hair tie that had been wrapped around his wrist low at the nape of his neck. “What doesn’t affect you if the physical energies. It is what the world can change and bend in or on your body. It is the energy taken from the user or the world around them. These are permanent changes. What I am speaking of is energy of the mind- what you may call the subconscious. It is more of a suggestion. It is not permanent.” Yao rested his chin languidly on his overturned hand. “In Disney terms, you are under a trance. An enchantment.”

Sakura hummed. “So that is why it did not work. There was something already there. Our energies clashed.”

Yao nodded, face brightening for a moment at her understanding. “Correct. And whoever casted this is powerful.”

Alfred looked down to his hands. He rubbed at his knuckles as his thoughts spiraled. He didn’t remember any time before about meeting someone who could wield magic, but he supposed that was the whole point of it. If what they were saying was true. But who would mess with his thoughts? Why would someone do that? Who was that cruel?

Alfred thought of the pink scar zipping up his side. Maybe there was a reason he wasn’t supposed to remember? Maybe he should let it be. It could be for his own good. 

“How do I break it?” Alfred asked. He reached out for the kettle and poured himself a cup. The water was lukewarm and the tea overstepped and bitter. It smelled like grass. 

“You have to break it. It is like a hypnosis. I can give you some idea of what to do,” Yao paused and took of sip of his tea. “But I don’t know how well it will work. You’re not the same as a Mundane or a Magician.”

“A Broga,” Alfred said. It felt like a curse on his tongue. 

Yao nodded. “We will get to that later. I promise. And know this, Alfred. As long as you reside within my city and stay an ally, we will protect you.”

“Thanks,” Alfred fidgeted in the chair. 

Sakura stood up and walked to the kitchen, putting away her cup before walking out. She grabbed a coat from the closet off the kitchen, putting the hood up over her head. It had two cat ears poking up. She tapped at her phone, and the soft orange light from earlier lazily floated up. “I am going to do another patrol. Alfred, I will check on your brother to make sure he is alright. Okay?”

“Yeah,” Alfred said, shoulders sagging with tension he didn’t realize was there. “Thank you.”

Sakura nodded and took off, the door closing quietly behind her. Alfred turned to the window when a pigeon fluttered to the sill, cooing quietly. Yao stood up, walking over and brushing the top of the bird’s head with the pads of his fingers. 

“What’s with the birds?” He asked. 

“They are my eyes for the city. They tell me what is happening.” Yao watched the gray speckled bird take flight and turned to Alfred. “Come. Let’s figure out how to break this spell.”

Alfred followed Yao further into the apartment, coming to a small living area shrouded in shadow. He took a seat on the carpet and Alfred did the same. They faced each other, cross legged, and Yao took a deep breath. Alfred copied. He shifted, foot already falling asleep.

“Think of this as a skill you need to build,” Yao said, dark eyes fluttering shut. “You are not going to master this in a day. It may not fully break today. It may never break. You will need to accept this. The more frustrated you become, the greater the hinderance. One day with practice, it is possible these spells will not affect you, as your mind will be strong. But, one seed is needed to plant a garden.”

“Uh, sure.” Alfred said. Yao opened one eye and Alfred scrunched his own eyes shut. He took another deep breath. His head already hurt. “Headache,” Alfred mumbled.

“Yes, I imagine with the strength of that spell. Try to visualize yourself as a ball of hot white light, pulsing at the center of your heart. Now, with each breath, let that light flow through your veins, until you are infused.” They sat in silence as Alfred tried to visualize this and not think about how his foot was going into that fuzzy state of numbness or how his nose itched. “Now, imagine with each breath, your light gets brighter, and with each exhale, you are breathing out gray ash. Clear your energy.”

Alfred breathed, watching paper ask float away into the night in his minds eye. Be hoped his light was bright enough. It felt dim. He felt dim. He felt gray and worn and tired and torn and–

“Good. Now. Envision there are black roots coiling around your brain, your mind. These roots are jagged, delving into your thoughts. We do not want this. You must imagine that you are pulling each root out, slowly, and leaving the white light behind.”

Alfred tried. His head hurt. He imagined digging his fingers into the roots, pulling them away. And yet there were so many. Infested. Alfred kept pulling, deep in thought and head aching and pounding when Yao added, “If there is a thought that keeps jumping though, dig for it. It may help.”

Alfred saw a flash of purple and dug down. He could almost feel soil back under his nails, staining his fingers. The air was warm around him and he was back in his sleepy spring garden. There was a flash of purple, like the palest flower bud trapped in the grass. He pulled the roots out, threw them over his shoulder. He dug. His fingers touched warm skin, and he brushed away the dirt, looking into warm violet eyes. Afraid and so full of love. The moon hung above him, stars dripping through the sky and falling to the ground, pooling around his feet. He took the hand of the violet eyed stranger. Held tight. The pain in his head cracked open, turning though to his heart, and the world blurred away. 

“Ivan,” Alfred whispered, eyes flashing open. Yao was gone from where he had been seated across from him. Gold morning light suffused the room, gilding every surface. Alfred’s cheeks were wet and he roughly wiped his eyes with his sleeve. “Ivan,” he gasped again, the name like honey as it dripped from his tongue. 

Snippets of the night, of falling into the spell whiled though his mind. He could remember the wide eyes of the deigol, the fear in his eyes, and desperation Alfred had heard in his voice. 

_Ivan_. What had he done?

“Ivan,” Alfred said, and the sunlight burned away the tears covering the name. Anger burst forth hotly. “You **bastard**.”

*******

On a rain drenched mountain hundreds of miles away, Ivan fell hard against a slab of rock, grunting from the hit. He brought up his hand to retaliate, and a boot swiftly pinned him down. He stilled as a sword blade came under his chin, resting along the soft tissue. He stilled, panting. He had been hunted like a rabbit. And now, the fox had him in his jaws. 

“You put up a good fight, your highness,” The blade nudged closer to his neck, pressing the skin. He felt hot blood weep down. “You sure gave me a fight.”

Ivan stared at the white haired man, the Northern Court’s best tracker. Gilbert. The Ghoul. Elizabeta's attack dog. 

Gilbert ground down harder with his boot and Ivan grunted again, although he didn’t cry out. “You’re coming back with me, kiddo,” he said with a vicious grin and Ivan shut his eyes. They would go after Alfred next. He hoped he had disappeared into the minutiae of the Mundane world. It would be harder to find him. 

There was a cry and Gilbert stepped off of his arm. Ivan rolled over, lunging for cover in the low shrubs hugging the mountain side. He turned to see oily water arcing in the air, lashing down and splintering anything that came into its path. He took for the woods, nearly striking out when hands grabbed his shoulders. 

“Ivan. It’s me!” 

Ivan blinked away blood and sweat that had fallen into his eye. “Francis?” 

“Yes. Come,” Francis shoved Ivan hard to the ring of trees, where a pale looking Arthur stood in the center of a circle. Ivan stumbled over to him, and Arthur caught him. 

“Get your arse over here, you fucking frog!” Arthur yelled. Ivan winced. 

“Just go!” Francis snapped, hand slicing down and stopping a furious Gilbert from getting close with a wave. The ground was ripped apart where the tail of water slammed against the land. 

“Don’t be an idiot!” Arthur snapped. 

“It’s my specialty.” Francis snapped back. “Go!”

Arthur grit his teeth and activated the circle. He and Ivan left, leaving only the smell of Burt cinnamon to waft through the trees. Francis destroyed the circle with a twist of his fingers. “Now, my old friend.” Francis said, turning to study Gilbert. “Let’s see if I can finally best you.”

“You never could,” Gilbert said. He squared his sword to attack. “With or without magic.”

“I do suppose that leaves me at a disadvantage,” Francis said calmly and attacked.


	11. Waxing Gibbous Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Waxing Gibbous: The moon increasing illumination, steadily brightening the night as it becomes a full moon. A time for plans to be created and pruned before their manifestation. Patience. A pause before the course is set._

Alfred was alone. He sat at Yao’s table, staring into a cup of coffee and watched the steam rise and swoop steadily in the morning light. Thoughts drifted like the cream in his coffee, floating and swirling in an amorphous mass as he digested everything he knew. Ivan had put him under a spell– and it was a breach of trust that left him hurting. Had sent him away without even talking to him. Ivan had made it so Alfred would never look for him. The memory that Ivan had used magic against him swirled back, jagged like broken glass. He understood why. Or, well–no. He didn’t. He wanted to understand, but he was so angry. Alfred’s fingers tightened around the cup. He took a sip and stared down to the woodgrain of the table, holding the too hot cup to his cheek. 

He still didn’t remember everything. When he had told Yao earlier, he knew there were people and places missing from his mind. It was like peering into fogged glass. Alfred knew they were there, but only some things had been wiped away clear again. “ _It’ll take time_ ,” Yao had said as he had made a pot of coffee for Alfred. “ _You’re only learning to break the illusion. It may take more time and patience._ ” 

But he didn’t want it to take more time. He wanted to remember everything now. He wanted to go up to Ivan and shake him and yell and cry and hold him and never let him go. He wanted to never remember that image the spell had soiled his mind with, of the affair that had never happened. Memories brought up by the false illusion was like ice water to his system. The fact that his brain had casted James as the man Ivan had slept with hurt, and he didn’t even know if that was on part of himself or the spell. 

Alfred sighed, putting the cup down and traced meaningless swirls onto the table left by the condensation from the cup. His chest ached and his throat felt clenched. He rubbed at his eyes, leaving his glasses on the table. What hurt most was that Ivan had done this without talking to him. They had built their relationship on trust and mutual respect. Or at least he thought they had. This was a decision made for him, not with him. And that wan’t healthy and it wasn’t good. 

Alfred put on his glasses, hearing a chime and looked up to the window. A string of what looked like chicken bones rattled again and Yao came out of a room from the opposite side of the apartment. He walked to the kitchen as the bone chime fell silent and Alfred turned in his chair as a knock came from the front door. Yao curled his fingers and the door opened for the visitor. A tall man shut the door behind him, walking in and removing his flip-flops before leaving the hallway, yawning as he stopped in front of them. 

“Hey Yao! Oh, hey. New guy? Name’s Jake,” The man said, reaching out to take Alfred’s hand in a strong handshake. 

Alfred huffed in amusement at the strong grip, “Alfred,” he answered. Jake folded his tanned bare arms, clad in a white shirt and jeans, and leaned against the wall. He glanced over at Yao with a bright smile, running his hands through his unruly brown hair and assessing him with bright olive eyes. “Damn things’ve been trying to get into the city. Took Smokes all night to redo the barrier so they can’t swarm in. I think Sakura said some slipped in, but I think she took care of them, or at least that’s what she texted me. 

Yao nodded. “Did she go home?”

Jake shook his head. “She passed out on my couch this morning. Her place is on the other side of town.” He took something out of his pocket that was wrapped up in a paper towel and shook it open onto the table. Alfred leaned away in his chair. Three teeth were scattered on the table top. One was clearly a human molar; once crimson blood had dried to a muddy brown along the base. Two other teeth were long and sharp like an alligator, with nearly black– what Alfred assumed was– blood encrusted on it. 

“Is that,” Yao nearly lunged to the table, startling the other two men, as he picked up one of the long teeth and held it to the sunlight. He was silent and rigid as he turned the tooth over between his fingers. Alfred glanced to Jake for answers, but he was silent and grave, eyes unwavering from Yao’s examination. 

Yao’s lips settled to a thin hard line, dark eyes severe, and put the tooth back down on the table. “Veluhdai.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, but Christ, I was hopping I was wrong.” Jake pulled out one of the chairs and settled down with a weary sigh. He ran his hand across his face, pausing at bandage across his nose. “Found it in an alley about 10 clicks away. Think it got someone.”

Alfred stared at the tooth, the name bringing up faint memories. “Sorry, what?”

Jake stared at him quizzically. “Veluhdai, mate.”

“It’s a creature like a deigol,” Yao said, eyes focused on the wall as he was distracted with other thoughts. “Did Sakura–“

“Yeah, she sent out an email blast and text alert letting all known Magicians in the area to report back. Should know by the end of the day what poor idiot got eaten.”

Eaten? Alfred crossed his arms as though it could protect himself from whatever was lurking out there and attacking people. He took a long sip of his coffee and stared down into the watery dregs. Alfred’s phone sat dead in his pocket and he guiltily thought of his brother. Had Matt woken up? Had he called the police? He needed to go home soon. 

As though sensing Alfred’s sudden jitteriness to leave, Yao turned to Alfred and shook his head. “When Sakura comes back I’ll have her escort you back to your home. I promise your brother is safe. We have someone watching.”

Alfred nodded reluctantly. “When do you think she’ll be back?”

“Oh, afternoon. She doesn’t like to sleep.” Jake grinned and swept the teeth back into the paper towel and tucked it back into his pocket. “Anyway, just letting you know.” He stood up and yawned loudly. “I’m hitting the sack. Wake me up in an hour or two so I can relieve Smokes.” Jake turned and walked off to the room across from where Yao had come out from earlier and shut the door. 

Alfred turned to Yao. “What is a veluhdai?” He asked. He had a sudden sense of grass and a blue sky, but Alfred couldn’t remember more than that. Trepidation and calmness churned, but the two feelings didn’t match. He had snippets of memories coming back, as he wasn’t able to fully repeal the spell just yet, and it was driving him crazy. 

Yao glanced at him. “The same kind of creature as a deigol. Only much fiercer, and much stronger. They’re tall, usually around 6 feet, and have mottled brown leathery skin.” Yao tapped his fingers against the table. “Fast, able to crush human bone with their jaws, and black reflective eyes, like a cat. ” He huffed and added, “the thing of nightmares.”

And Alfred had thought deigols were bad. He rubbed his fingers across his arms and Alfred took to playing with the empty cup. “How did it get into the city? I thought your people were putting up barriers?” 

“There are holes, I only have so many people,” Yao admitted. “Most of the Magicians who live here are either outcasts, Nulls, or exiled. Most do not want to bring attention to themselves by attempting large and energy rich spells.” Yao walked to the kitchen, coming back quickly with a bag of spicy shrimp chips, a handful of clementines, and a pot of hot water for more tea. “No one here wants the Courts to remember we exist. Out of sight, out of mind.”

“What are Nulls?” Alfred asked, taking a clementine from the table. 

“Those born without the ability for magic that come from Magician families.”

“Oh, like a squib from Harry Potter,” Alfred supplied. He put the peel down on the table, taking a segment and popping the sweet fruit into his mouth. 

Yao chuckled. “Something like that,”

“Holy shit you actually got that reference. Ivan never got them, so I stopped mentioning anything like pop culture.” Alfred’s bright starburst smile faded as he thought of Ivan. He hadn’t yet told Yao anything beyond that he had snippets of memories coming back and wondered briefly how much he should say. 

“Your husband, right?” Yao asked. When Alfred nodded silently, Yao took a shrimp chip and sighed. “You said he was a Magician? And he was the one who casted the spell on you?”

Alfred again nodded, busying himself by eating the rest of the clementine while Yao munched thoughtfully on the chip and watched him. “So outcasts and exiles?” he ventured when the silence began to pluck at his nerves. He tapped his foot silently, full of energy. 

“Like myself and Sakura and Jake. We’ve all left home for one reason or another. Sakura left willingly because she learned of computers and technology and knew she would never be able to use them. The Eastern Court is known to be the most progressive, and even they are hesitant to combine magic and Mundane technology or medicine.” Yao glanced to the window where a pigeon had landed. He raised his hand, a slow loop and downward drag of his fingers that had the window opened in seconds. Alfred watched the bird hop in and settle along the window’s edge. 

“Jake’s sister turned out to be a Null, so instead of wiping her memory and leaving her to build a new life in the Mundane world, he joined her.”

“And you?” Alfred asked. 

Yao smiled. “Not all of us leave for noble reasons.”

Bone rattled and soon the door to the apartment opened again as Sakura walked in. She took off he shoes, glancing knowingly at the flip-flops and yawned behind her hand as she walked in. “Good morning Yao. Alfred.”

Yao offered her tea and questioned her on how she felt. Alfred thought she looked kinder than she had last night with deigol blood splattered on her clothes. Sakura had changed into black leggings, a soft pink skirt and black blouse at some point. A flower was tucked behind her ear and she took out her phone as she sat down. 

“Jake told you what he found? Good. I sent out the alarm to everyone we know in town, but there are seven people who don’t use any technology. You will need to send out your pigeons.”

Yao nodded and the pigeon on the ledge fluttered over in a scramble of beating wings. Sakura frowned and Alfred backed away, but Yao looked charmed by the clumsy bird. “Do you have names?”

“Of course,” she tapped on her phone, bringing the list of names up and reciting as she scrolled through them. Alfred finished off his coffee and nearly choked on it as Sakura added, “Oh, and Francis Bonnefoy.”

“What?” Alfred said and put the cup down before he sloshed it over the table with his coughing. “Francis? He lives here?”

Yao and Sakura looked at each other before Sakura said, “Yes. He registered a house in the north side of the city. Do you know him?”

“Fuck, yeah. I mean,” Alfred ran his fingers through his hair, wincing as he brushed against the wound from yesterday. He remembered Francis; that he was an advisor to Ivan and had been at the house. But he couldn’t really remember all about him. It was like when he had been trying to break the spell he had focused on Ivan and now could only remember things about Ivan. 

But something warm in his stomach said yes, Francis was good. He should go find Francis. Alfred nodded, realizing the other two were staring at him. “Yeah, Francis is Ivan’s friend.”

“Ivan?” Sakura asked. 

“His husband. The Magician who casted the spell.”

“Oh,” Sakura’s eyes went soft. Alfred could feel his cheeks warm. She took a shrimp cracker and nodded. “Yes, I can take you there.”

“Thank you,” Alfred said. He took his phone out of his pocket, and began to fiddle with the dead brick. He paused, watching Sakura tap on her own cell phone and frowned. “Why does you phone work? Mine always dies around magic.”

Sakura made a motion for Alfred to pass over the cellphone and took it into her lithe hands, turning it so the back faced her. She took out a knife from her pocket. “I developed a sigil to stop the influence of magic. Something like too much electricity overloading it?” She stopped to focus as she carved the sigil into the back. “Anyway, when you stop the magic from outside screwing with it, you can do other things to it. Like make it cast spells.” She grinned as she handed the phone back. “Wands are so yesterday.” 

Alfred took the phone back, watching it turn back on. It had been drained of battery, but god it was amazing to have a phone that would work- magic or not. “It’ll work even with deigols near?” He asked. The scar on his side, which he now knew was not from falling off a ladder and was a deigol attack, tingled with memory. 

“Yes.” 

Alfred rubbed the top of the phone with his thumb. “Thank you, Sakura. This is really great.” 

She smiled and popped a wedge of clementine into her mouth. “You are welcome.”

“Jake said he was going to relieve Carlos from aiding the barrier.” Yao watched the pigeon hop away and fly out the window. He closed it with a wave of his hands. 

“Oh, tell him not to worry. Smokes was relieved already by Fisher. She’s volunteered to help seeing how unusual this all is.”

Yao sighed. “I’ll never understand these nicknames you give to each other.”

“That is just because you don’t like your nickname.” Sakura looked at him innocently when Yao scowled. He stood up, taking the bag of chips after Sakura snagged one last bite. 

“Nicknames?” Alfred asked. 

“Oh, we like to call ourselves the Crimson Cranes and we give each other code names. Carlos, who you haven’t met, is Smokes, since he smokes a lot. Jake is Roo, since he’s Australian. Like kangaroo? Anyway, Michelle is Fisher since she’s a pescatarian and works at a fish market.” Sakura leaned in her chair to glance into the kitchen where Yao had stalked off to. She leaned in towards Alfred, giving a conspiratorial grin. “Yao’s GG. Grand Geezer.”

“Sakura!”

“And I,“ she continued with a giggle, “am Pixel.”

“Because of the tech stuff?” 

“Yes,” Sakura sat back into her seat. The air still lingered with orange and green tea and Alfred folded his arms on the table. “Not a very creative bunch. Anyway. I think we should go if you are ready?” 

Alfred stood up. “Yeah, I need to see Matt.”

“Okay.” Sakura tapped on her phone and a white circle appeared. She grabbed her shoes and waved goodbye to Yao as she stepped into the circle. Alfred frowned, holding onto her shirt. “Goodbye Yao, text me if you don’t hear back from the birds. I’ll go investigate them personally.”

“Be careful. If a veluhdai is around–“

“I will be okay, I promise.” Sakura waved before holding onto Alfred’s shoulder, starting the short chant that would activate the circle. 

“Thank y–“ Alfred started, and then it felt like the world was twisting and pulling around him. They were in Matthew’s living room, the apartment filling with the acrid smell of burnt cinnamon. Alfred crumbled into himself, hugging his stomach to stop the intense nausea. 

“I wonder why that affects you. Even Nulls don’t have problems with circles.”

“Just lucky,” Alfred groaned. 

“Must have to do with being a Broga.”

That sobered Alfred and he stood up, looking around for his brother. He opened the bedroom as Sakura stood in the living room. “He should still be asleep,” she called. 

Alfred walked over to the bed. Matt was in fact still sleeping. He put his hand on his brother’s shoulder, but got no response. He was unnaturally still. It still smelled like charcoal from the fire, although there was no trace anywhere. “Is it a spell?” he asked.

“Yes. One moment.” Sakura came in, palm glowing green, and slowly swiped her palm across his forehead. Matthew sighed in his sleep and Alfred bit the inside of his lip. “He’ll wake up naturally. Do you want to wait or should we continue on?” she asked. 

He stared down at his brother, wondering what to do. He wanted Matt to be with him. He was always the voice of sanity and he wanted to talk to him about everything, but there was too much danger right now. He couldn’t handle Matt getting hurt. He didn’t know about magic and Magicians and he might be better off for it. Alfred shook his head. “I’ll send him a text. I don’t want to bother him right now. “ They walked out to the living room again, as Alfred texted to Matt that he was going out for a bit and that he would be home later that night. He turned to Sakura, “He’ll be okay? You’re sure a deigol can’t get in here?”

Sakura glanced at the window. “Alfred, I promise someone is watching this home. There was a deigol following you already and we want to know why.” The sighed and then walked into the apartment kitchen, opening the cabinets as she searched for something. Alfred watched her pull out a several bottles and some spices. “The bowls?” she asked. 

“Top shelf.”

Sakura poured the ingredients in, muttering under her breath as she worked. She crossed the rooms, using her fingers to mark invisible sigils with the vinegary mix. When she completed all the doors and windows, she poured the rest down the drain. “It will deter them from coming in.”  
Alfred looked at Matt’s closed door and nodded. “Thanks.”

They used the circle to get to a solitary patch of land surrounded by birch trees and cedars. A plain slate colored house sat in the middle and Sakura’s spine straightened. Alfred this time stumbled over to a bush, upheaving his earlier breakfast. Apparently more than one transfer lead to more than just nausea 

“What’s wrong?” Alfred asked, wiping his mouth with his sleeve and swallowing against the sour taste of sick in his mouth. 

Sakura stared at the house. “Powerful magic.”

Alfred stood up, glancing around at what he assumed was Francis’ home. It was traditional, with dark clapboard and shutters. the scars of a garden yet to bloom curled around the front. It should have been quaint. But something shivered in his spine. A primal warning. 

“Francis is a friend?” Sakura questioned, stepping towards the home. 

“Yeah.” Alfred crossed his arms. It had been such a sunny and beautiful day, but now he felt chilled. Like the sun had been hidden by thick clouds. 

He stepped forward, walking through the newly sprouted grass to the door of the home. Sakura stepped behind him, dark eyes shooting to the thick grove of trees around the property and back to where they had arrived. “You said he is a Magician?” Sakura asked. 

“Yeah. Ivan’s friend.” Alfred stopped at the path that lead to the front door and turned around. “Why?”

“I do not sense any wards,” she muttered. Her lips thinned as she pressed them tight in thought, and then took out her phone, and for the first time that Alfred had noticed, a wand. 

“I thought wands were outdated, or whatever,” Alfred pressed. 

“They are,” Sakura said. “But they’re reliable against old magic. Stay close to me, Alfred.”

“Francis isn’t dangerous,” Alfred said, knocking on the front door. He pulled his hand away. He wasn’t, right? Maybe Alfred’s mind had muddled up memories of him. Maybe he was dangerous. Alfred glanced back at Sakura and then to the tree line. He felt itchy. Nervous. 

No one opened the door, and when Alfred tried it, he found it unlocked. Alfred pushed it open peering into the dark hallway. He shut the door. “So, am I the only one getting creepy vibes, or what?”

Sakura’s gaze was on the trees. She didn’t move. “Go inside.”

“Really?” Alfred fidgeted with his glasses. “You–“

“Alfred. Inside. Now.” 

Alfred opened the door again, stepping inside. Sakura stumbled into him in her haste to get inside, nearly pushing him down as she slammed the door close and locked it. Her wand came to life, glowing blood red as she swiped at the door frame. Red light dripped out of the wand, adhering to the door in a glowing sigil of sharp jagged lines and arrows. She immediately did the same with the window next to her. 

“Sakura?” 

“I saw something, by the trees,” she whispered. She said nothing else as she moved on to the next door, working at a feverish pace. 

Alfred’s heart slammed against his chest. “A deigol?”

“No,” Sakura finished with the windows for the front, and she grabbed Alfred’s wrist, dragging him further inside. “Worse.”

“Worse?” Alfred asked. “Veluhdai?” he asked quietly. 

“No,” Sakura muttered. She kept her wand out, scrawling the sigil faster now. “I’d prefer it actually.”

“Then what?” She stopped moving, wand stagnant in the air. A large crash resounded against the front door. Plaster dust coated them as the walls shook from impact. 

“Court guards,” Sakura said angrily. 

“Court guards?” There was another crash, and the sigils flared, bathing the rooms and hall in blood red light. Voices beyond the door called out. But it was as though they were underwater, muffled and wavering. “Shit.” Alfred said.

“You know about them?” Sakura asked, pulling him deeper into the house. 

Alfred frowned. He could remember that he and Ivan had been chased by the King’s Guard, but he didn’t remember why, exactly. “I don’t think our last meeting was pleasant,” Alfred said truthfully. He followed her into the kitchen, glancing at the old tomes line along shelves next to hanging pots and pans. Alfred was sure it looked charming in the light. Now it had an unnatural edge and musty smell of dead unused air. He didn’t think anyone had been here in weeks. 

“We need to get you back into the city,” Sakura said as she opened a door that turned out to be the pantry. She paused to cast more sigils on the windows and added, “We can protect you inside the city, where we have some say in sanctuary, but out here, in a home of another Magician who presumably hasn’t disavowed his Court,” she paused and hurtled what sounded like a curse in Japanese. “This is a trap.”

The sound of breaking glass shattered the heavy silence of the house, and Sakura opened another door, finally finding the basement. They rushed down the stairs. “Can’t we just circle out?” Alfred asked in the darkness. 

“No,” Sakura’s wand glowed red, “the sigils I casted keep anything out, but also anything in. We did not get upstairs yet, so they must have physically broken through the windows. I did not think they would be so bold.” she added. 

“I think they’re after me,” Alfred said. 

“It does not matter. You are under Yao’s protection.” Sakura walked around what looked to be an old boiler. "But with the laws of the Court, this house belongs to a Magician, and is therefore under their purview. They have every right to attack us here, if they should so wish." Sakura came to a window. It like looked small enough that Sakura could get through, but Alfred didn't think that he would fit."

"Attack us?" Alfred said. He glanced around to see if there was another exit. Soft light came from the other side of the room and Alfred slowly made his way over, careful not to trip over anything. "They haven't even talked to us. Why would they attack first?" 

Sakura turned from the opposite side of the basement, face castes in angry red. "The laws of the Mundane world are not the same for us. It is easier to subdue someone and question them than to allow them to be an active threat and gather evidence slowly."

"Well I don't think that's right," Alfred said as he pushed aside a box full of what looked like intricately carved and dyed candles. "What about innocent until proven guilty?" He looked at the slit of daylight, feeling the jagged stump where a door handle had long been broken off. "I think this is a door," he said to Sakura. The door to the basement above them shuddered as someone tried to break through.

"Let me see," Sakura said as she walked over, wand held high as she used the red light to see. 

"Fuck," Alfred hissed as the saw light pour into the basement, the door breached. 

"Put down your wand," called a man from above.

"Run to the woods, I will follow," Sakura hissed, and with a quick slash of her wand, the door exploded, dust billowing. There was a yell from above and Alfred felt her small hands shove him hard, he blinked in the sudden sunlight as multicolored lights firework flash banged behind him. He bolted to the woods. He wished he could help, but he had seen Sakura take down a deigol easily. He knew he would only be a hinderance if he stayed behind. She had this. 

Alfred ran. He curved around thistle bushes and delved into the thin blooming greenery, not stopping until he could barely see the house. Alfred held his breath, chest aching, as he listened to hear if anyone had followed. Red light blossomed from the house, arching in the air and flaring in the downstairs windows. A harsh hot wind followed, crashing into the forest and sending the trees into whispered warnings. Alfred saw a dark figure barrel out of the house, heading towards the tree line. They were too tall to be Sakura, if the heavy black cloak they wore hadn't been enough of an alarm. 

Alfred fled further into the woods, feeling his skin prickle at how close this felt to only weeks prior when he had been attacked by the deigol at night. He avoided a log, leaping over it with a long stride and dove to hide behind a thick pine tree, it's boughs providing precious cover. He knelt down. The cold damp ground leached into his jeans. It was silent. Alfred waited a good ten minutes, listening to only his hushed breath and he slowly came out of his hiding space. He stepped forwards, to go back to the house, when he realized how quiet it was. 

There were no birds. There was no wind. 

A forest's strangled breath, waiting. 

Alfred’s skin itched with unease. He stepped away from his hiding place, but skirted the patches of dull sunlight that crashed along the forest floor. A twig snapped. A hand grabbed him, ripping him down to the ground and he shouted. Another hand covered his mouth and he turned to see Sakura, hair mussed and singed, but otherwise unharmed. 

“Christ, don’t do that,” he hissed. 

“We need to go. Now,” she said. 

Alfred held onto her arm. “Wait,” he said. She stared at him and Alfred watched a drop of blood roll down her cheek from a cut hidden in her hairline. He motioned with his head to the silent woods. “Something’s wrong.” He frowned, looking over her shoulder to a dark patch of brush. 

“It’s fine,” she said. 

Alfred watched the shadows shift. Uncoil. “No,” he said softly, hushed and frightened. His heart beat against his ribs, as through already trying to bolt to safety. “Behind you.”

Sakura turned. Her fingernails pierced his skin as she suddenly clenched his hand. “House. Now.”

“Aren’t the guards still there?” he asked, staring at the shadow. 

She pulled him back, and in the change of light, Alfred could see eyes glint, like a cat’s. They took a slow step back, but the shadowed creature didn’t move. They continued their slow backing away, never taking their eyes off of it until they passed a tree trunk, disrupting their view. When they stepped back into sight, they looked back to the bushes. 

It wasn’t there. 

“ _RUN_ ,” Sakura cried, and nearly pulled his arm out of its socket as she launched them forwards in a desperate sprint. 

They scrambled through the trees. Tree branches cut his face. Sakura tripped, nearly falling to the ground, but Alfred pulled her up. They had to get to the house. 

Alfred could hear a gurgled pant behind them, like someone trying to breathe through a wet straw. Branches were being broken and Sakura screamed and Alfred cursed when a log came crashing next to them, splintering and nearly hitting them. They broke the perimeter of the woods. They ran faster on the nearly flat ground.

Alfred slipped on the damp ground, breaking Sakura’s grip. An arc of green light cruised over his head, exploding in front of him, and Alfred scrambled back up, catching wicked teeth and black dead eyes illuminated by the attack’s light.

“Alfred!” Sakura yelled. 

“What the–“ Light erupted as another spell was cast. Sakura grabbed his arm, and Alfred saw two men in black capes as they ran past. There was a grotesque scream and a horrible squelching and ripping sound that Alfred knew he would never forget. Another scream came, like someone was drowning in their lungs and Alfred held onto Sakura’s hand tighter as they hit the path that lead to the house. 

They raced up the steps. Brilliant red light burned around them. They ripped open the door and Alfred nearly slammed the door in the Court guard’s face. Sakura grabbed him and pulled him in. Alfred ignored the spay of crimson on the strangers face and slammed the door shut. Silence. 

A horrible scream came. It shook the house. Alfred covered his ears. Sakura pushed the man aside, aiming her wand at the door. Blue fire erupted, coating the surface of the wall and door. Alfred stepped back and glanced at the man, who had his wand out and was staring at the window where Sakura’s earlier sigils flared brightly. the mixed spells cast the room in purple. 

“What the hell was that?” Alfred asked. He was shaking from adrenaline. He furrowed his hands through his hair, which was lank with sweat and god knew what else. 

“Veluhdai,” Sakura said, as though it was the worst curse she could say. 

“Christ,” Alfred breathed. 

They both glanced at each other and Sakura stood in front of the Court guard. “Get up. We need to secure this house or we are all going to die.”

The man stared up at her. Alfred cleared his throat. The man blinked and nodded. “Okay.”

“Good.” Sakura was still panting from the run. “Alfred, stay in the kitchen. I’m going to keep warding the house. “You,” Sakura added as she turned to the guard she had been fighting minutes ago, “Are going to help me. And if you so much as turn on us I will shove you out of this house.”

The man nodded. Sakura glanced around the foyer they were standing in. “I’ll take upstairs.”

They split up, which screamed against every cell in Alfred’s body. He wanted to stay together, stay hidden, but he knew right now he needed to listen to Sakura. 

God he wished Ivan was here. 

Alfred eyed the guard who had gone to check the sigils on the door, then turned and walked into the dark house. Alfred shivered as he heard scratching along the outside of the house. 

Ivan.

Christ, he was an idiot. Alfred pulled out his cell phone, a proud beacon of blue light unaffected by magic. He knew Ivan’s phone number was no longer in there, but he knew that number by heart. The question was, did Ivan still have his phone on him?

One way to find out. 

Alfred dialed the number, holding his breath as he waited for the other line to pick up. Alfred nearly cried when he heard the tone change as the phone was answered. 

“Hello?” he asked. 

There was a pause, then: “ _Alfred?_ ”


	12. Crepis barbata

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crepis barbata: Bearded Crepis. Protection

Ivan sat with his back to a tree, eyes shut as he felt the warm sunshine on his face. He listened to the world around him and finally muttered, “Stop pacing. He’ll be here soon.”

“I don’t like it,” Francis said. 

Ivan opened his eyes, looking up at the canopy of green pine needles. In the distance he could hear a squirrel or bird rustle in the dried leaves at the base of the forest floor. “Arthur said it would take him two hours. It’s not even that,” Ivan said quietly. He didn’t want to admit that he was nervous as well. Arthur had gone to get supplies, what with Ivan’s injured arm from where Gilbert had stepped on it and Francis’s laceration to his back. He had barely made it out of the fight. Ivan didn’t want to think of what would have happened if Francis hadn’t made it back to Arthur’s side. “Sit down,” he finally said as he tracked Francis’ movements with his eyes. “You’re injured. Rest.”

Francis stood at the edge of the trees for another minute before sitting down at the knobby roots of an oak tree. He took out his wand, resting his shoulder against the tree to keep his back from touching it. Both Ivan and Arthur had treated it, but it wasn’t enough. He knew Francis was in pain. “I don’t understand why you are not out of your mind as well,” Francis finally said. 

Ivan stared at the forest floor. “Alfred is fine.” He had to be. That’s why he had separated the two of them. Because he knew danger was breathing down their necks. He couldn’t see Alfred hurt. Not after watching him in bed listless after the deigol attack. He wasn’t strong enough to see that again. “He’s stronger than I am and smarter too,” Ivan said.

Francis watched him with pain hazed eyes. “What did you do, Ivan?”

“What?” Ivan looked up, jaw set stubbornly. 

“Come now,” Francis said and gave a wry smile. “You don’t think I know you? I have been serving you for all these years by your side.” He frowned, and Ivan got up, careful not to jar his arm as he came over to Francis’ side. “This stupid wound,” he muttered and Ivan looked at the angry red and black blistered laceration looming out from the holes in his shirt. 

“Arthur will be back soon,” Ivan repeated. “You’ll feel better then.”

“In more ways than one,” Francis agreed. He looked out at the stone circle they had set up for Arthur’s quick return. “That idiot always gets into trouble when I am not around.” His face contorted in pain when he had tried to turn and Ivan put his hand on Francis’ shoulder gently. 

“Ease back. There you go.” Ivan swallowed and pressed down on the fear building in his stomach. It looked worse now. 

“ _Merci_ ,” Francis muttered and turned his head to watch Ivan again. “Now. Where did you send Alfred?”

“What do you mean?” Ivan sat against the tree next to Francis, looking at the trees in front of him. 

“Ivan, he was attacked by a deigol and you wouldn’t take your eyes off him. Now he is accused of treason with the entirety of the Northern Court searching for him and you are not at his side guarding him?” He shook his head and a sad smile fell to his lips. Ivan looked away. “I am not a fool, my friend. I know you too well.”

Silence fell between them and Francis waited patiently. Ivan glared at the ground. The wind rustled through the branches soothingly and suddenly the air was thick with the smell of burnt cinnamon. Francis sighed. “Arthur’s back. He doesn’t seem to have any limbs missing.”

“That is good,” Ivan replied dryly and got up gingerly to meet the other Magician. 

Arthur had his wand pointed at the circle, destroying it carefully before he turned around to face Ivan. Soot stained his cheeks and one of his eyebrows was singed. It looked like something had exploded in his face. “Everything’s on lockdown,” he grumbled and walked briskly towards him. He fished a small container out of his bag and tossed it to Ivan, not stopping on his path to Francis. “Something’s up that’s got everyone on high alert.”

“The fact that the man suspected of treason against the royal family being at large is not enough?” Francis asked. He gave Arthur a cunning smile and a wink that made Arthur scowl. “You look dashing, _mon lapin_. A little asymmetrical, perhaps.”

“Fuck off,” Arthur muttered. “Like I said, Lockdown. Everyone’s got the old curses back on their lands. It’s like they expect a deigol to suddenly pop up in their kitchen.” he knelt by Francis’ side taking out a large green glass jar filled with a putrid looking oil. His lips quirked and Francis gave him a tired smile, hand brushing over Arthur’s as he said, “It looks worse that it is.”

“No,” Ivan said. “It’s as bad as it looks.” He leaned against the tree and opened up the tin in his hand. It smelled like fish and rosemary. He took a glob of it and began to spread it out along his arm, hissing at the burning sensation. 

Arthur nodded. “Now lay down. I need to put this on your back. Then no moving for the next hour as the skin knits back together.”

“You’re always so bossy,” Francis said, but complied. Arthur helped him down and put his cloak under his head. He then took out a black horn knife, slitting open the tatters of Francis’ shirt. Francis tensed from the sudden cool air. “You should buy me dinner first,” he said. 

“Too late for that,” Arthur countered dryly. He opened the jar and carefully put the lid down to the ground, careful to not get any of the oil on his own skin. He hesitated and looked down at Francis. “Do you–“

“Just do it,” Francis muttered and kept his eyes on the ground. His fingers were clenched tightly and the skin over his knuckles were white.

Arthur looked up at Ivan who nodded, lips set grimly. Arthur sighed, pulling out a glove from his pocket and reminded Francis, “Don’t move.” He then put on the glove and carefully put the oil onto the horrid wound twisting down Francis’ back. Francis gasped, fingers reaching out blindly and clenching shut as he tried not to move.

Ivan abandoned his own treatment and came over, kneeling down by Francis’ head and holding his shoulders still. “You are going to be alright,” Ivan said. 

Arthur looked pale, but he set his jaw and pulled on the glove and poured more oil onto his Francis’ back, using the glove to make sure the oil got into the wound. He straddled Francis’ waist when he gave a choked cry of agony, trying to twist away from the pain. “You have to stay still,” Arthur said. He pulled off the glove carefully and put it away with the jar. Arthur hushed Francis’ agonized and bit off moans, carding his fingers gently through his hair. “I know it hurts,” Arthur murmured. “I know love, I know.”

Ivan looked away, giving them as private of a moment as possible. He watched out of the corner of his eye as the wound seemed to bubble, clouding the oil lathered on top and turning gray. Pink skin was forming along the edges. They stayed like that for a while, stopping Francis from moving and making the treatment last longer. Ivan bit at his lip in worry. Normally for wounds like this they would go to a healer who would put them under for the duration of the healing. This was borderline barbaric, holding him down in the dirt of the forest floor. But what could they do? Neither he nor Arthur trusted themselves to make a sleeping draught or try a temporary sleeping spell. Neither were good at spells that affected the mind. Ivan felt a stab of guilt in his stomach. At least none that were temporary. 

Because what he had used against Alfred? That would never be reversed. Alfred would never remember him. The cold reality of his actions settled again and his throat tightened. Alfred would be fine. He could go and live his life and not be in fear. He would probably move on. Find someone else. How could he not? He was beautiful and kind and so wickedly intelligent in uncharacteristic ways. Ivan would mourn him for as long as he lived. Maybe when this all settled down he could watch him from afar and make sure he was okay. 

The hour passed slowly and towards the end Ivan was able to pull away and lick his own wounds, sitting in the shadow of the trees and listening to Arthur murmur to Francis. The skin was nearly knit back together, but Ivan knew how painful it was. He rubbed his own ointment onto his mending arm and glared out at the empty forest as his muscles burned. 

The hour was up and Arthur rubbed in a numbing ointment for the lingering pain. Francis fell asleep soon after, exhaustion’s hold too tight on him. Alfred finished his ministrations and stood up, cleaning the greasy residue from his fingers with a cloth. “How did he do?” Ivan asked quietly. 

Arthur tilted his head and studied the scar. “It’s best he can’t see it. No doubt he’ll complain about the scar left behind. But it will fade. Now he doesn’t have a hole in his back anymore.” A puckered and pink scar of newly healed flesh glistened in the low light of the forest. Arthur pulled off his Mundane style green jacket, draping it over Francis’ exposed expanse of skin. He sat down against the base of a tree heavily, resting his arms along his knees and staring at the ground and nothing at the same time. 

“You should leave. You could still go back. Tell them I coerced you,” Ivan said without looking at Arthur or Francis. 

“Try again,” Arthur growled. 

Ivan gave a thin lipped smile. “You could go. I would not fault you for it. It will be dangerous around me for a long time.”

“Ivan,” Arthur raised his head and folded his arms. The sleeves of his light gray wool sweater bunched up and Ivan could see scratches along his forearm. “Shut up. You’re stuck with us.” He leaned his head back against the rough bark of the tree and looked up at the tree canopy. 

“Thank you,” Ivan said quietly. He caught Arthur’s smile although he did not move or look away from the tree branches. 

Minutes passed and the sun slid into its apex. “What’s next? Are we meeting up with Alfred?” Ivan turned to Arthur as he stood up from his vigil at the tree, stretching and brushing off his pants. 

“No,” Ivan said. He hadn’t said anything yet. Apparently Francis had figured something was up, but he was still asleep. 

“Why?” Arthur asked. He reached into his bag, taking out a canteen of water and a cloth to wash his face of the soot he had neglected earlier. “I’m actually surprised we haven’t gone to him yet. You were half crazed when the deigol attacked him.” He began to scrub at his face and the words came out muffled, “Did you send him to someone else to watch?” 

“No,” Ivan said truthfully. “I would guess he went to his brother’s home.”

Arthur stopped and looked up from the cloth. His face was still grimy from the residue. “What? He’s not a Magician. Tell me you sent him with someone.” Arthur paused and he glanced at Ivan sharply. “He wasn’t taken was he?”

“No, he hasn’t been taken.” Ivan said quietly. Francis’ words rang in his ears. What did you do? Ivan looked at his hands, at where a Mundane wedding ring could have gone. He and Alfred had never exchanged rings. It wasn’t a Magician custom and Ivan had been afraid of the metal affecting his magic. Alfred hadn’t really brought it up beyond the week before they were married. Now he wished he had listened. He wished he had a physical reminder of Alfred’s claim and promise. 

“Ivan?” Arthur prompted. His voice was quiet but there was an edge to it that made Ivan raise his gaze and meet Arthur’s eyes. “Why aren’t we meeting up with Alfred?”

Ivan splayed his palms over his knees stretching his fingers out until they ached. “What happened when you were attacked by the deigol?”

“Stop trying to change the subject,” Arthur said sourly. 

“I am not.” Ivan said quietly. “It pertains to this. I promise, my friend.”

Arthur stared at him cooly before muttering, “I don’t know. None of my normal protections were working properly. When we ent to aid the guards and your sister, I took to my normal defenses.” Arthur stopped, clearing his throat and looking over to Francis. “Nothing worked. Only spells I could cast near instantaneously worked. Anything that required a magnifying or grounding sigil could be casted. They overwhelmed me quickly.” Arthur fell silent, a hand dragging over the wounds hidden by his sweater. Ivan knew Tino’s attempt at healing would have left a blotchy scar, just as their attempts on Francis had done today. The only difference was that Arthur’s was from a deigol and the venom would never leave. He would always feel cold there and aches would throb from time to time. If enough venom had entered into his blood then his magic would have been affected for years, if not for the rest of his life. Francis’ wounds were from magic, and while the scar was ugly now, if he saw a healer within a relatively short time, the puckered and pink skin would become nothing more than the soft silver of healed skin. Barely noticeable. Arthur rested his head against the rough bark of the tree. “I would have died if Francis hadn’t been standing near me.”

“Do you not wonder why your cloak was so useless?” Ivan asked. The bitterness that crept into his voice surprised him. Realization of the truth had ruined everything. 

“Sabotage, I assume,” Arthur said. 

“No.”

“No?” Arthur leaned forward. “Then what?”

A shrill noise filled the air and Arthur and Ivan stared at each other dumbly. Francis stirred at the noise and Arthur left his post at the tree, kneeling by his side. Ivan looked at his bag when the shrill noise came again, and then lunged for it, ripping the bag open and dumping out its contents. Because that was the cellphone Alfred had given him and only Alfred knew that number. 

Somehow Alfred was trying to call him. 

Ivan answered the phone, fumbling with the unfamiliar buttons and pressing at random until he heard a quiet ‘hello?’

His heart leapt into his throat. “Alfred?”

“Oh, thank god,” Alfred said. There was thick static on the phone and his voice was faint, but that was unmistakably Alfred. Ivan’s gripped the phone so hard he listened to the plastic creak. 

“Alfred how–“

“No time,” Alfred interrupted. His breathing was heavy on the line, causing more static. Ivan furrowed his brows, trying to hear better as he pressed the phone closer to his ear. He glanced over as Arthur helped Francis sit up. “Ivan, I need help. Right now. There’s a veluhdai here and it’s trying to get in. It’s already killed people. Ivan–Fuck!”

“Alfred?” Ivan yelled into the phone. He was standing, heart racing as he listened. A veluhdai? How was that possible? The only known one this side of the Atlantic had been in Bolivia three months ago. “Are you hurt?”

“I-I’m fine,” Alfred said shakily. Ivan began pacing. He needed to help Alfred. “It’s trying to get in.”  
There was more static on the phone, but Ivan could pick up a blood curdling scream. He felt cold and nauseas, realizing that it was a veluhdai hunting scream. A sound it only made when the creature was on a killing frenzy. 

“Where are you?” Ivan growled. 

“Montreal,” Alfred said. “Francis’ house.”

Ivan glanced over to Francis. “I am coming to get you.” Ivan nearly tripped, rushing over to Francis and Arthur. “Alfred, lock yourself into a closet and cover your eyes and ears. I am going to get you alright? I will come and get you, I swear to you. You will be safe.”

There was a hesitation over the line and even hundred of miles away Ivan knew exactly what his husband was doing. He was biting his lip, trying not to cry. “Hurry,” Alfred said, his voice hoarse. 

“Francis,” Ivan said, not hanging up the phone. “No time to explain. Alfred is at your home in Montreal. There is a veluhdai trying to kill him. Do you have any protection wards that can help?”

Francis stared at him in shock. “What?”

“Wards, weapons, anything.”

“I–euh, _Non_.” Francis turned his wide eye stare to Arthur. Arthur was still looking up at Ivan in confusion, which was slowly turning into horror. “Wait. Yes, hold on. Tell him to go into the bathroom on the first floor. No–wait“

“Francis,” Arthur grabbed his shoulder and met his gaze. “Focus.”

Francis shook his head, “He needs a Magician to activate it, but there is a ward in the foundation below. If he could activate it the bathroom becomes a safe-room. No windows. No way to get through the door. It should be impermeable until he deactivates it.” Francis shook his head, “But it was not designed to stop a veluhdai and he can’t activate it.”

Ivan cursed in Russian. 

“That bad?” Alfred asked wryly. There was a hum to his voice as though he were getting ready to bolt. 

“There is a safe room, the bathroom, but it has to be activated by a Magician.”

“Oh, Sakura can do that.”

“Sakura?”

“Yeah she–“ There was another horrible scream “–Ivan,” Alfred whispered.

“Hold on,” Ivan said. 

“Okay–wait,” Alfred said and then, “NO!” and the line went dead. 

Ivan leapt into action, driven by the consuming and singular need to get to Alfred in time. What had he done? 

***

 

Glass shattered from the window above. Alfred watched as a mottled claw broke through, ripping into the shoulder of the guard and yanking him down and halfway out through the glass. 

“NO!” Alfred yelled. 

Sakura bounded around the edge of the banister of the second floor, diving down the steps and heaving back with all of her strength. “ALFRED!” She cried, foot slipping in blood as she tried to keep the man from being pulled through the window. Alfred lunged up the stairs, hooking his arms around her and the man’s leg. There was a cry, a guttural groan, and then a vicious scream. They were all pulled forward with inhuman strength. Alfred’s face crushed into the wall as the man was pulled forward. Alfred scrabbled to hold on, there was another yank and agonizing scream, and Sakura screamed something as she drew her wand with bloody light.

And then all Alfred had was his shoe. He stared at it dumbly. Dropped it into the blood that had pooled under the windowsill and stumbled back, nearly falling down the stairs. Red light dripped out of Sakura’s wand as she waved it in front of the window, and then stumbled down the stairs, grabbing Alfred’s wrist with clammy hands as she pulled him down to the first floor. 

“Christ” Alfred said still staring at the window. 

“Alfred,” Sakura said, looking up at him with fearful eyes. “I’ve never–I-I…can’t” She rubbed at his forearm and Alfred stared down at her. Blood freckled her face. Her lip had been cut open. 

“The bathroom,” Alfred said. “We need– How did it– Bathroom.” He gripped Sakura by her sleeve and pulled her forward, nearly falling over the entrance rug in his haste to get to safety.

Everything smelled like copper now. Alfred pulled Sakura close as he heard the veluhdai scream again. She gripped his arm tightly, wand ready and brilliant red light glowing at her side. “Alfred, we need to run.”

“No,” Alfred said. “The bathroom is a safe-room.”

“What?” She stopped in the hall, but Alfred continued forward, using the light of his cellphone to guide his way. Somehow the house had become so dark. The natural sunlight was blocked from the windows. Something crashed against the house and the walls shook. Glass clinked in the kitchen. 

“Ivan said to get into the bathroom because it’s a safe-room. You need to activate it but we will be safe in there.” He ripped open a door, looking for the bathroom. It was a broom closet. 

“Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Alfred asked. He pulled another door open, shining his light into the bathroom mirror. He gripped the doorknob tightly, refusing to leave. “Sakura!”

“Shh,” she hushed, stepping closer to him with silent steps. “Listen.”

There was a humming sound: throbbing almost like a heartbeat. It swelled and ebbed. Rose and fell in rhythmic beats. 

“What is that?” Alfred asked. His heart still pounded painfully against his chest. Like a rabbit frozen in place, Alfred found himself staring wide eye into the dark bathroom, unseeing as he listened to the hum. 

“I don’t know,” Sakura murmured. She turned slightly, looking back down the hall from where they had run from. 

“The ward,” Alfred said softly, like it was more of a passing thought. He looked away from the bathroom, fingers drifting away from the doorknob. 

“What about it?” she asked as she put her wand into her pocket. Without the red light the hallway seemed to be pulsing with blue shadow. Something curled on the edge of his peripherals, like small bugs swarming in the darkness. He pulled off his glasses, swiping at his eyes. “Where’s the humming coming from?”

“Outside?” Alfred ventured. His heart still beat painfully, and he gasped for air. He looked at the bathroom. Into the mirror. There was blood on his face. He looked down at the cellphone in his hands. Most recent call glared up in red. 

“Ivan is…” Alfred stared down at the phone and then slapped his hands over his ears, muffling the drone of the humming. “Sakura!”

She began to walk down the hall. 

Alfred sprinted after her. The hair on the back of his neck prickled as he watched a shadow move past a windowpane. He grabbed her arm, pulling her back and awkwardly jammed his ear against his shoulder. “Don’t listen!”

“Why?” Sakura asked and looked towards the window. The sigils she had casted earlier still burned brightly, the only source of light in the house. Alfred pulled on her arm, trying to pull her away from the front entrance. She looked pale in the light, eyes blow wide and unfocused, like she was trying to hear a song being played far away. Her hands shook with a small tremor and Alfred grabbed them, encircling her writs with one hand.

“Sakura, this way, please!” Alfred begged. He could still hear the humming faintly, overlapped by an animal like snuffing near the door. It sounded like when his dog when he was a kid. Lucy, a bright eyed golden retriever had always sniffed around the doorframe to shut doors when she knew you were inside. Right before she would paw at the door, wining to be let in. A shiver trailed down his spine as Alfred realized they had walked closer to the door. “Bathroom,” he said turning away from the front door only feet ahead, “There’s a ward in there you can activate. It’ll keep us safe.”

The humming was getting deeper and beating faster. Alfred’s hands were cold and clammy, but he wasn’t tense. It was like his body and mind couldn’t agree where the danger was. Sakura was still looking at the door and she raised and hand. Her brow was furrowed and he watched as sweat beaded on her brow and upper lip, hand shaking as she stayed still in her silent grasp for the front door. Her lips twitched and Alfred’s stomach dropped as he realized she was starting to cast a spell. 

“Oh no,” Alfred said and looked back to the dark hallway where safety was. “No. Shit. Sakura, I’m sorry for this,” he said and took a deep breath. “Bathroom. Ward. Cover ears and eyes. Bathroom. Ward. Cover ears and eyes,” he said and grabbed Sakura by the waist, hefting her over his shoulder and ran. 

The humming seemed louder than before, more commanding and taking his sole attention. Like a drum beat directing soldiers to war. Alfred’s side seared in pain, unhappy with the strain of holding the woman up, and it jolted his thoughts away from the hum for a few seconds. He shut the door of the bathroom behind him, dropping Sakura to the floor and braced his back to the door. He jammed his ear against his shoulder and covered the other one with his hand, quickly texting on his cellphone. 

“I need to go out,” Sakura said, standing in the middle of the small bathroom as she stared at the door. 

“No,” Alfred said as he finished texting. 

“I need–“ Sakura blinked and then drew her wand. Alfred stared at the tip of the wand pointed directly at his face. “Now.”

Alfred grabbed her wrist and pulled her down. She cried out angrily, trying to elbow him in the face, but he knocked her hand open and the wand clattered to the ground. Instead he shoved his phone into her hand and covered her ears with his palms. Sakura twitched in his hold, still trying to get out of the room, and Alfred knelt behind her, holding her in place with his legs as he grit his teeth against the vibrations of the humming. 

It traveled down his spine like foreign fingertips and Alfred bent over, as though he could ignore the coaxing of whatever the humming was. He watched Sakura’s face light up with the blue cellphone light, her eyes flickering as she read quickly. Tension built in his shoulders, trapped with the need to go out the door and outside just as Sakura had been moments before, and knowing if he left this room it would be a death sentence. 

Sakura grabbed her wand from the floor and he watched her warily. Then he turned to look at the door. Pulled his hands away–

“Stop!” Sakura said, holding him in place with her own hands over his, and then with viper quick movement, activated the ward. 

The dark bathroom lit up with a thousand sigils marked from the center of the floor where they sat, spiraling outwards and flung to the ceiling in glowing celestial blue. Immediately the hum was muffled and Sakura let go of his hands. Alfred dropped his hands down to the floor and stared at her. Sakura gave him a tired smile and looked back up to the sigils. The ones on the ceiling were burning saffron red, dancing with firelight. 

“Why are those different?” he asked and leaned against the door. Exhaustion from all the adrenaline was setting in. 

“No don’t!” Sakura said. Alfred sat up. She shook her head. “I am sorry, but if your blood gets on any of these sigils the ward is gone. You have to stay still.” She cocked her head to the side. “Is any of that…?”

“No,” Alfred muttered and shut his eyes against the sigil light. “Maybe. In the woods I think I scraped my face on some branches, but–“

“Don’t move.” Sakura stood up and moved around the room a bit, looking at the sigils. “Here, sit on the toilet and don’t move.” Alfred listened to her directions and sat down on the shut lid and stared down at his feet. “How did you know about the ward?”

“I called Ivan. He’s on his way to help.” Alfred stared at the ground and his heart stopped for a moment. What was he thinking? There was a veluhdai outside trying to kill them. It had killed so many people already, why did he assume Ivan could handle it? Had he just called Ivan to his death? Alfred scrubbed his face against his hands, feeling the callouses brush against stubble. He hadn’t had a chance to shave this morning. 

“I’m calling Yao. I don’t know how to fight against a veluhdai.”

“You never fought against one?” Alfred asked, he kept his eyes shielded by his hands, and stared into the darkness of his palms. 

There was a pause and Sakura murmured, “No.” Alfred listened to her walk past him and then sit down on the floor with a thump. He looked up from his hands and at her grim face. “The call wouldn’t go through. I think it’s the ward.”

“I thought you modified your phone to be able to be used with magic?”

“It is,” Sakura turned her phone over in her hand. A small cat and an ice cream charm were hooked on from the case and it jingled quietly with the movement. “But this ward is not the usual parameters for it to work with. I would have to modify the ward itself and I am not doing that with that thing out there.”

Alfred scrunched his hands into his pants. Outside the hum was still pulsing, but it was very faint. He could almost ignore it if it wasn’t so alarming. “How is it doing that hum thing? Ivan said to cover our eyes and ears.”

Sakura frowned, pulling her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. “I’m not sure. There’s so few of them that the only people who get trained for that are the court guards and such. People who are expected to see them in their travels. That sort of thing.”

“But you know how to fight deigols?”

“They’re a lot more common. They’re also a lot dumber. Not as fast either.” She rested her chin on her arm as she looked over to the door. “I don’t want to cover my ears even though I can still hear the humming and want to open that door. I’m worried it’s going to get in somehow.”

“Yeah,” Alfred agreed. His side from where he had been attacked by the deigol felt icy cold and still throbbed from where he had strained it. He wrapped his hand over it, lost in thought. “Let’s take turns covering our ears? Maybe that’ll help. Limit exposure and everything. You cover your ears first.”

“Sure,” Sakura said and looked up with a tight smile. It fell immediately and he stared above his head. 

“What?” Alfred asked and turned. 

The sigils had turned red over his head, like flames eating away at the markings, the sigils were slowly changing from blue to red. 

“The wards are weakening,” she choked out. 

Something crashed against the bathroom door, hard enough that plaster dust rained down on them. Alfred coughed and looked up, seeing eyes reflect in the sigils glow. Sakura gasped and Alfred watched her stand. He lunged for her, pulling her down and shielding her eyes from the veluhdai with his body. He clenched his own eyes shut despite everything screaming to get up and run. There was another crash, the ripping of wood, and there was a surge of bright light from the sigils being activated against the monster that he could see from behind his eyelids.

_Where are you Ivan?_ He thought to himself as the veuluhdai howled in pain from the ward’s defenses. It was muffled, like listening to someone screaming from underwater. “Cover your ears,” he said to Sakura. 

“I should be protecting you,” she countered. There was a clatter where she accidentally hit her wand against the tile of the bathroom floor. 

“That hum affects you more,” Alfred countered. He opened his eyes and glanced up at the sigils burning red. It had consumed half the wall. He didn’t want to know what would happen when it got to the center where they sat hunched together. Sakura moved in his grip, throwing her arms over his shoulders and aiming her wand at the door. Her eyes were clenched shut and she pressed her face against his chest, opening one eye to look up at him. 

“Cover your ears. If it gets in I’ll be able to attack it this way.” She fell quiet and another crash and scream sliced through the air. “It’s okay,” she said quietly. 

He realized her ear was pressed to his chest, using it to keep one hand free so she could point the wand. She must have realized how fast his hear was beating. “You’ve got a really fucked up idea of what okay means,” he said with a panicked laugh and covered his ears. 

It couldn’t stop the sound from being blocked out fully. He could still hear the screams faintly and his stomach rolled in revulsion. Was this how it was going to end? He opened his eyes again and realized the room was nearly all red, the sigils were creeping into red along the outside of the floor. Above the sigils had gone dark and lifeless. Sakura’s arm tightened around his shoulder and he watched the sigils flare as the veluhdai crashed into it over and over and over again in its frenzied attempt to get to them. 

Alfred closed his eyes again. How was this thing any smarter than a deigol? It was so focused on getting at them that it didn’t care that the ward was hurting it. What kind of intelligence was that? The deigol that had attacked him that night had been smooth in it’s hunting, quiet in a way that unnerved him to even think about. This was a creature gone out of its mind and into a berserker mode. None of what anyone had said anything about these creatures reflected what they actually were doing. Deigols only attacked magicians was wrong. It had come after him. Veluhdai were tricky and smart was wrong. This thing was attacking with brute force only and some hypnotizing humming. What was going on?

He had been so wrapped up in his frenzied thoughts that when Sakura tugged on his arm he yelped. “Sorry,” she muttered, “but it left.”

Alfred opened his eyes and pulled his hands away to look around. The door and wall had been completely ripped away, but the faint blue glow of where the ward was stood a ghostly impression of were the wall had once been. Rubble lined the hallway and Alfred looked up to where the sigils lay dead above. The floor was nearly all red. 

“It won’t last much longer,” she said. 

A crash came from above and plaster and drywall collapsed around them. Sakura screamed and Alfred felt rubble crash against his head. He fell backwards, pulling her down with him by accident and trapping her arm under his back. The light of the sigil went dead. 

“No!” Sakura yelled, pulling herself out from under him. Warm blood dripped down from a gash against his head and Alfred realized in dazed horror what had happened. His blood had canceled out the only protection they had. They were naked against the strength of the veluhdai. And it was all his fault. 

He struggled to sit up and Sakura pushed herself away from him, sending a lightning bolt of red light up into the hole in the ceiling. Reflective eyes flashed and the veluhdai jumped down, crashing down into Alfred. He heard Sakura shout, watched as it swiped its arm back and threw her into the wall. He couldn’t breathe from the weight of it on his chest and he kicked out feebly from under its hot mass. His vision was going gray on the edges. He couldn’t breathe. The veluhdai stared down with flat black eyes and grabbed at his hair slamming his head down into the tile viciously. Its claws scraped his scalp as it let go. 

The world went dark, save the firelight of sparks in his vision. Distantly he realized Sakura hadn’t moved or said anything. He was being dragged through the hall. His foot caught on rubble. The world bled back to black again. Wet grass licked against his neck and back where his shirt had been pulled up. They were outside. He didn’t remember going through the doorway. The veluhdai swam in front of him, doubling and lurching as he tried to focus. Blood trickled down his arm from his wrist where the razor claws nicked his skin as it dragged him towards the woods. 

Alfred kicked out weakly, and the movement made him nauseas. He had to fight. He couldn’t just be taken. This couldn't be it. He had to get to Sakura and make sure she was okay. Ivan was coming. 

His arm fell down to the ground as the veluhdai let go. His vision wavered. Alfred rolled over, vomiting into the grass as nausea finally gripped his stomach too hard. He was being lifted by his shirt and his head throbbed. 

And there was fury in the air. 

Blue and white fire flared and Alfred listened to the veluhdai scream in pain. He was dropped to the ground, but a foot crashed into his ribs, pinning him in place. He couldn’t even cry as the air had all been knocked out of him. There were voices shouting over the guttural scream of the creature and then silence. 

Hands were questing over his face and shoulders and ribs and Alfred moaned, swatting them with slow movements. Someone was talking and he blinked, looking up and frowned. “Yao?” he asked in confusion. 

“Where are you hurt?” His fingers briefly trailed parallel to the gash along Alfred’s head. “Is Sakura alive?”

“Sh’Inside. I dunno,” He muttered, slurring over the words. 

Blue fire crackled into the air and Alfred turned his head. He immediately shut his eyes as the world dipped and swelled. 

“Don’t move.” Yao said. “Your head is hurt.”

“Alfred?”

Alfred opened his eyes, looking up at Ivan’s shadowed face. He knelt down, blocking out the sunlight from Alfred’s eyes. 

“His head is hurt. Don’t try to move him until I know how badly. I have to go check on my friend.”  
The grass hissed as Yao got up and ran to the house. Alfred didn’t watch him, instead focused on the man in front of him. 

He blinked in confusion. “Are you….crying?” he asked. 

“I am so sorry,” Ivan whispered. And yes, his beautiful violet eyes were sparkling wetly with unshed tears. His thumb traced the edge of Alfred’s jaw. “You should have never been alone.”

Alfred shut his eyes. “S’okay.”

“No it is not.” Ivan said and they fell silent. Something was burning in the distance, crackling and hissing. Alfred reached up, pulling Ivan’s hand away from his face and clasped it over his heart. 

“’S’okay Star Eyes,” Alfred murmured and tightened his grip. Held on for everything he could. Because he felt that if he let go...If he let go he would drift away into that darkness and he wasn’t letting Ivan go. He was never letting go. He was never lettin–


	13. Hyacinthus orientalis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Hyacinthus orientalis: Hyacinth (Purple). Forgiveness_

Alfred woke up with a headache strong enough for Athena herself to jump out of. He moaned, dragging his hand up to his face and kept his eyes closed. The deja vu was already too much. Attacked by a creature again. Figured. It felt as if every muscle in his body was bruised as he probed the skin around his head. He flinched feeling raised skin and finally opened his eyes. 

Soft sunlight streamed down from above, warm and still. Greenery loomed over him, as though concerned of the patient laying below and Alfred watched a bird sail above, casting only a pale shadow over him for a heartbeat. He blinked, finally realizing that the greens above him were towering palm trees soaring 70 feet into the sky, encased in the concentric circular glass of a conservatory. Alfred sat up, hissing out in pain at the new powerful throbs of pain, and found himself balling soft white cotton sheets in his fist as he stared around him. He was laying on a rattan bed and a thin cotton mattress in the middle of a victorian style conservatory. A stone pool curved around the mass of palms to his left where grand lily pads dotted the dark water. Resplendent orchids floated through the conservatory, dangling through the air in bright purples, dainty white, and fierce orange and yellow. 

Alfred took a deep breath, coughing as his muscles seized and protested. The air tasted like jasmine and orange and soothed the bitter blood the coughing fit seemed to leave behind. The room was utterly silent, save the distant and rhythmic croaking of some frogs. Releasing the cotton sheet, Alfred glanced back up to the glass and steel dome soaring above him. Missed the first time by his dumbfounded reaction to the jungle around him, a sigil surged electric blue in the ceiling and the ebbed away– the heartbeat of the room– and some sort of protection. He recognized that much. Alfred glanced down to the white pajama bottoms resting loosely on his hips and realized he was shirtless and shivered despite the hot air around him. Pink lines littered his arms, wounds healing from the shower of glass and debris the veluhdai had caused. 

Alfred scrubbed at his face, digging the heel of his hand into his eye until technicolor sparks swirled behind his eyelids. Where was he? 

“That’s bad for your eyes,” said a deep voice, lightly accented and wholly unfamiliar. Alfred went tense, the need to run thrumming under his skin and clawing down his spine. And yet he did not move. Instead with a steadying swallow that hurt his throat, he turned to see a man with a bald cross scar cutting through his black hair and stared back with warm amber eyes. 

“A veluhdai’s worse,” Alfred managed to croak out. 

The man sighed, shrugging his shoulder and adjusting his black rimmed glasses. “Ah, yes, that is true.” He walked closer, looking down and muttering towards the ground. Alfred watched curiously as what appeared to be a large sand colored cat bounded away as the man stopped in front of Alfred, taking his wrist with cool fingers and glanced into the distance. “But it would be a shame after all that to damage your vision as well, no?”

Alfred looked on mutely as the man let go of his wrist after a minute and took out a black leather notebook from his pocket, jotting something down with blue ink, as dictated by his finger instead of a pen. “Am I dead?” Alfred blurted out.

The man laughed, scratching his head near the scar. “Don’t tell me I’m pretty enough that you think I’m an angel, okay?” He chuckled to himself again and then sobered upon realizing that Alfred had not been joking or attempting to be flirtatious. “Oh, no. Of course not.” He took out a penlight and clicked it on and off. “I’m going to check your eyes okay?” When Alfred shrunk back slightly he tisked, clicking with the inside of his cheek. “I promise to tell you everything if you let me look you over, okay?” He gave a genial grin and held both hands up. “I am a doctor.”

Alfred warily looked around and then nodded, looking straight ahead as the man instructed, and then followed the off penlight side to side while keeping his head still. “Where am I?” Alfred asked. 

“A clinic,” he said as he moved his finger back and forth faster, watching Alfred’s eyes, “run by Adi and me.”

“Where’s Ivan?” Alfred asked, stopping his concentration. Where was Ivan. Now that the bubble of the question had burst past his lips it was all encompassing. He needed to see Ivan. To hear him. To feel his soft skin beneath his fingers and raspy stubble on his chin. To see that he was whole and not bleeding and safe. He began to push himself off the bed until the man put a gentle hand in the center of his chest.

“After your exam. I want to make sure you are alright first. Then you can see him, okay? He’s already on his way." He brought up the pen light and said, “My name is Jerome, and you can trust me Alfred. Everyone is safe.”

Alfred didn’t reply, but Jerome continued on with the exam, mostly talking to himself with short answers from Alfred. He had Alfred look quickly between two still fingers, then focus on the penlight as he moved his head from side to side and up and down. Alfred had to stop, dizziness and pain flaring up. 

“How long have I been out?” Alfred asked as he brought his ear to his shoulder, wincing when pain flared up. Jerome had him stop and waited for the pain to die down before having him do the same thing to the other shoulder. 

“Only about half an hour, actually,” Jerome said, moving to Alfred’s right as he pressed against his head and moved his fingers down along his neck and spine. “Well, physically.”

“What?" Alfred looked up and turned his head to face him, dropping his head to his hand as pain flared. 

“Careful, you’re still hurt,” Jerome muttered. 

“What does that mean?” Alfred asked, pulling his hand away and facing the doctor. 

“Tilt your head down, yes that’s right, does that hurt?” Jerome asked, fingers trailing over tight muscles. 

“Yeah,” Alfred admitted. “But what does that mean?”

Jerome stood in front of Alfred, writing into his notebook before closing it with a frown. “I have no idea. You have a concussion, two a fractured rib, and some bruising on your chest and left leg. Several shallow cuts along your face and arms, and a deeper cut near your temple here," Jerome’s fingers hovered over the tender part of Alfred’s head. “Now we are going to check your balance, okay? Please stand.”

Alfred stayed quiet as Jerome had him walk and stand, although the doctor had to catch him from falling on his face when he closed his eyes at one point. “There’s no way that all this healed in a day.”

“No,” Jerome agreed, helping Alfred sit back down on the rattan bed. He waved his hand and a green leather stool appeared under him as he sat down. He glanced up and crossed his arms, folding his legs do he could bounce one foot. “But it does heal that fast in about a week.”

Alfred nearly choked on the perfumed air. “A week!”

“Alfred!”

Jerome baked out, “Careful” and suddenly there were hands on his face and touching his hair and shoulders and hands. 

“Ivan,” Alfred said as he stared at the most beautiful sight in the conservatory. Ivan, pale blond hair frizzy from furrowing his fingers through it, violet eyes with exhaustion smudged under them, and wearing a rumpled shirt that was too large and not his own, and out of breath: it was all he wanted to look at. Alfred brought his own hands up to Ivan’s face, thumb tracing his jaw and the relief that filled him pulled all the fearful tension out of his body, leaving only weariness and tired joy behind. Ivan’s eyes flickered shut for a heartbeat before he pulled Alfred’s hand away, kissing the fleshy base of his palm and squeezing gently. 

Alfred noticed the sheen of sweat on his brow, “Did you run here?”

“Of course I did,” Ivan said. He smiled, but it was a broken thing and fell quickly. He turned to Jerome and asked, “How is he?”

“Battered, but alive. He does have a concussion, so he’ll need to take it easy, but I think it was mostly the thrall like Adi said.”

“Who’s Adi?”

“A healer, “ Ivan said, violet eyes tracing his face, “A lore expert and healer, I should say. Jerome is a healer too, but he’s a doctor as well,”

“Well,” Jerome said as he stood while the leather chair disappeared, “Sort of. I’m not really licensed, but I did go to school.” He began to walk away, towards where Ivan had come from and seemed to melt into the cool blue shadows of the palms. “I’ll be nearby if anything is hurting, alright? I’m going to wait for Adi anyway.”

Ivan nodded and took a seat on the rattan bed, thumb tracing circles over his knuckles before he brought up Alfred’s hand and kissed it gently. “A week?” Alfred asked. Ivan didn’t look up. Shadows from the dangling orchids passed over his face and there was a distant splash of a frog disappearing under the dark pool. “Wait, where’s Matthew? You didn’t just leave him, right? Whoa–wait,” Alfred pulled Ivan’s face towards him, looking over his eyes, “How did you get a black eye?”

“Matthew is here with us,” Ivan said, pulling Alfred’s hand down and laying their tangled fingers on his lap. “And the eye does not matter. How do you feel?”

Wasn’t that sweet that he thought Alfred was just going to leave it alone. “Where is Matthew and how did you get hurt?”

Silence fell between them and Ivan sighed. “You’re not going to answer until I do, are you?”

“See, you do learn,” Alfred said with a thin smile. 

Ivan eyed him warily. “I know we need to talk,”

“Yep,” Alfred agreed. 

“But not here.” Ivan’s eyes seemed to roll across the conservatory, searching for something. He stopped, shrugging his shoulders to release tension and then smiled again at Alfred. “We brought Matthew here a few days ago. Francis and I explained everything to him,”

“Wait, really?”

“And he was not happy with me,” Ivan continued on, rubbing the cheekbone below the bruised eye. “I suppose you could say,”

“You’re such an idiot, do you know that?” Alfred coughed from the outburst, throat dry and a bit sore. Ivan’s eyes were comically wide, obviously not expecting Alfred’s words and he gently swatted his husband’s chest. “You are such a goddamn martyr, I swear to god.” He lifted his arm, ignoring the slight twinge of pain and wrapped it around Ivan, pulling him close until their faces were nearly pressed together. The world seemed quieter, for just a heartbeat. “I don’t want you hurt. I’m going to kick Mattie’s ass when I see him,” he groused to himself. “I’m mad at you, don’t get me wrong. And we’re going to have a long talk.Like a really long talk. But I love you and I don’t like seeing you in pain, especially since I know you can go get that hideous smelling goop and heal it pretty damn quick, okay?” He took a a long and shallow breath to keep his ribs from aching. “It’s a good thing you’re pretty, you know. You sure have a brain but you don’t use it all that much.”

Ivan snorted with an aborted laugh. “If you are the brains of this duo, we are doomed.” He fell silent and then pulled away. “I’m sorry for what I did.”

Alfred looked at his hands, unable to look up and meet his eyes. “I’m sorry for what you did too.”

“And how is the patient feeling?” Came a new voice from behind them. Alfred turned slightly, using his torso instead of his neck to look behind him. Jerome was walking with a slightly shorter man who was dressed crisply in white linen shorts and a white button down shirt. He had short dark brown hair and deep brown eyes like the smooth stones that boarded the pool. He came to a stop and Alfred watched the large sandy cat settle down by their feet, staring back with unnervingly bright green eyes. It looked like a miniature lion. 

“A bit sore,” Alfred admitted. Ivan eyed him distrustfully at the flippant comment.

“Hmm, it’s to be expected.” Jerome leaned against the trunk of a sturdy palm and the shorter man dipped his head in hello. 

“My name is Aditya. Jerome and I run this clinic outside of the courts.” He sat down, a small white wicker stool spear below him. Jerome passed him the black book he had been taking notes in and flipped through the pages. “We’ll get you some painkillers for your concussion and broken rib. No reading, and I know you are a mundane, so no TV, internet, or anything like that. You’ll need to watch that rib, but most of your other injuries are well into healing. No infections, and thankfully your gash on your head cleaned up well.” Aditya stopped reading and frowned. “Now I understand you’re a mundane, so I won’t need to check you’re flow of magic, but I do fear you’re still under the thrall of the veluhdai you faced. I was told you were also attacked by a deigol?” When Alfred nodded, Aditya shook his head, “most unlucky.”

“I don’t think we’ll need to check that, Adi,” Ivan said. 

Aditya and Jerome both looked up at Ivan and then at each other. “Well, it’s up to the patient. He’s welcome to refuse treatment.”

“Sorry, thrall? What?”

“You may have noticed when the veluhdai attacked you were in some confusion. Perhaps your thoughts were dazed? You found yourself walking towards it?” Alfred nodded, even though it hadn’t happened to him. He’d seen Sakura though, seemingly lost in her own mind and walking towards death. “Well,” Aditya continued, “that can be a lasting effect to the senses. You seemed to come down with it fairly bad. You’ve been unresponsive for a while. Ivan wanted to move you to a mundane hospital–“ Alfred glanced to Ivan who smiled weakly, “–but we think they would have, quite obviously, misdiagnosed you.” Aditya curled his hand out and gestured around him, “You’ve been responsive to stimulus, but you haven’t really been here, really.”

“Oh. Well. Uh, no. I don’t think I need the treatment for the thrall. Thank you” 

Ivan turned to the men and thanked them. Aditya shrugged and walked away with Jerome, hands folded behind his back as the strange cat followed them, with one last piercing gaze. 

“Just sore?” Ivan questioned. He stood up from the rattan bed and Alfred looked up at him. 

He held out a hand and Ivan helped pull him up. His skin was cool and welcome. “Yeah. I’ve gotten worse knocks in life. There was that motorcycle accident when I was outta high school.” 

“You never told me about that,” Ivan said. He put his arm hesitantly around Alfred and they walked over to the water’s edge upon coaxing by Alfred. Flashes of orange greeted them and Alfred watched plump goldfish loll and swim through the water. He looked up at the towering palms shading them. “Guess it never came up. Anyway. Where are we?”

Ivan looked into the water as well. “A liminal pocket.”

“Liminal? Like another dimension or something?”

Ivan looked up and met his gaze. “Yes. That’s right.”

“Cool.” Alfred leaned into Ivan’s body. He glanced up at the floating orchids and touched one of the trailing scraggly roots. “What’s happening Ivan,” he murmured.

Ivan took a long deep breath. His gaze narrowed and he tuck out his tongue. “The air tastes like soap.”

Alfred burst out laughing, holding onto his stomach as his chest ached. “You’re ridiculous.”

“But you love me,” Ivan teased back, and then caught himself, looking into the water. Alfred knew what he was thinking. He nudged him until Ivan was looking at him.

“Yeah, I do.”

A blush pooled onto Ivan’s cheeks and Alfred nudged him again with his shoulder. He cleared his throat and it sounded a little creaky. “Yao told me you know what you are.”

“Mm, yeah. A bro…a broda?”

“Broga.”

“That thing. I can’t be touched by magic and my blood renders spells void. I’m like a magic boogeyman,” Alfred looked up to see Ivan staring at the water again, face pale, “right?”

“Something like that,” he murmured. Ivan then shook his head. “Well, something exactly like that. Children are told of the broga who will bring the end of the world with it, grinning as the world is consumed by fire and darkness.”

Alfred tightened his hold on Ivan. “Wait till they hear the broga had braces.”

“This isn’t a joking matter.”

Alfred could feel his own hackles rising. “Babe I have nearly died twice in the span of what– a month? Two months? You told me your people are told to kill me on sight, so I think a little humor is exactly what you’re going to get here.” Alfred backed down, rubbing his eyes tiredly behind his glasses. “Sorry.”

“No. I am sorry. You are right.” A dark smile graced his lips. “A broga with braces is not very fearsome.” Alfred nudged him again. “We are told that the broga is the leader of the Velauk. The strongest and most deadly of the dreghos. But none of this makes sense in that context. The dreghos kill magicians. They feed off the magic in our blood. Why would they want someone who has the opposite of that? Someone who negates magic with their blood?”

“Babe I have no fucking clue.” Alfred shook his head and then turned away, walking along the edge of the water by himself. “Hey, this place has a ward on it,” he said pointing up at the ceiling where the electric blue sigil pulsed. “Aren’t we worried about my blood?”

“No, not really.” He joined Alfred on his walk looking at the tropical plants and trees. “A liminal space isn’t inherently magical. If you bleed on the floor the worst that will happen is the door between the spaces closes. We can just open it again.”

“Oh.” Alfred stopped and turned, watching the cat follow them and then come to a stop by hi feet. It meowed loudly as it dropped a white paper bag at his feet. “Thanks?” He picked it up, seeing a note from Aditya to take the medication with the small plastic cup of water. There was a white linen shirt in the bag as well. He put on the shirt and took the medication, putting the trash back into the bag, which the cat took and sauntered off with. “Doesn’t that cat look like a lion?”

“I think it is one.”

“Seriously? That’s awesome! I wonder if we could get one. Imagine having a pet lion!” Alfred watched the cat disappear out of the conservatory. When he looked back Ivan was watching with a reverent gaze. “What?”

“I- nothing. Let’s go eat. I’m sure Sakura is back in the kitchen.”

“What about Yao?”

“He had to return to the city. The deigols have only gotten worse and now there are soldiers looking around as well. He offered Arthur and Francis a place to stay if they would help with patrols.”

“Arthur and Francis are with you?” Alfred walked up the path, looking at the white linen shirt and pajama bottoms loose on his hips. He tied the drawstrings tighter and followed Ivan out of the glass arch of the conservatory door, and entered a hallway full of carved floral panels, looking over a clear river dotted with large irises. “I’m glad they got out of that mess okay,”

“As am I.” Ivan lead him around a corner to a modern looking kitchen. Sakura sat on the concrete counter across the stove where a sky blue pot simmered away. “He’s awake.”

Sakura looked up from her phone in her lithe hands and a grin split across her face. “Alfred!” She jumped down with a laughed and surged towards him, slowing down to give him a gentle hug. 

Alfred laughed in relief, looking down a the magician who had saved his life. She had a few healing cuts on her bare arms, but otherwise looked fine. “Are you okay?”

“I’m all better now,” she said and tilted her head. “I’ve been up and about for a few days.”

Alfred took a seat down at the table overlooking a garden of roses and shook his head. “How come you’re not back with Yao?”

“You’re still under his protection.” 

“What?”

She took a seat next to him and smiled, taking out her phone. “Yao said you’d be under his protection. You’re still under it. I’m here to make sure you’re safe.”

“Oh.” He smiled and took her hand, patting it. “Well, Ivan’s back.”

Her smile thinned. “Safety in numbers, then.”

“Alfred!”

Alfred stood up, hearing his brother’s voice. “Matt?”

His twin pulled him close in a bone crushing hug, holding on tightly and pressing his face to his shoulder. Alfred did the same, letting his fear and relief and joy be conveyed through touch. They separated and Matthew looked him over. He nodded once, apparently seeing something in Alfred’s face he had been looking for and stepped back. “You’ve been sleeping way too much, you know? No wonder mom said you were the lazy one.”

“Hold the fuck up,” Alfred said, giving a gentle elbow to his brother’s side. “I distinctly remember someone sneaking out to go smoking with their boyfriend and me having to cover why they’re too high to get out of bed, and I’m the lazy one?”

“Fuck you too.”

“You brought it up!”

Matt shook his head, smile fading as he saw Ivan a few feet away and took a seat next to Alfred. Ivan, clearly getting the message said, “I need to speak with Adi,” and then giving Alfred a smile, walked back into the hallway. 

“Don’t be a dick to him,” Alfred growled, as Sakura got up and went to stir whatever was in the pot. 

“Al-” Matthew started.

“No, and you definitely don’t hit him! What’s wrong with you?” He twisted in his chair and looked at Sakura. “Actually you too! What the hell?”

Sakura and Matt shared a look and Alfred felt his wold become infinitely more complicated. He sighed and Matt leaned against the table. “You’ve been catatonic for a week. I find out he knowingly put you in danger like that? How was I supposed to react?”

“Like not an asshole!”

“You could have died Alfred. We could be putting you into a grave right now. He knew demi golems were after you and he, what, made you think he–”

“Don’t–”

“–Cheated on you and brought up all those memories of you and–“ Matthew stopped, realizing what he was saying and muttered into his hand, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be going after you like that.”

Alfred just stared at him. A clatter in the kitchen caught both their attention as Sakura put the lid on whatever she had been making, carrying over two bowls. “Eat up gentlemen,” she put the bowl down with what looked to be a bowl of soup and smelled like lemongrass and chicken. “Cruel words are spoken by empty stomachs.”

“Is that a saying or something?” Alfred asked, taking a spoon from her. His mouth was watering already. 

“Nope. Just off the tongue.” She glanced at Matthew who hummed and then turned to Alfred. 

“That was out of place. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay Mattie,” he took a bit of the soup. It was warm, spicy, acidic, and buttery from the slowly cooked chicken. God, that was good. “I know a lot’s been going on. You probably got info dumped on too. It’s a lot take in.” He dipped the spoon back in and looked at his brother. “I know you’ve been there for me at my worst and you don’t want to see me there again. I get it. But this isn’t the same thing, and Ivan’s a good guy.” Alfred took another bite of the soup and sniffed. Damn this was spicy. “Besides, they’ve been telling me everything along the way. I could have gotten on the next bus to Tuscaloosa but I didn’t. A lot of this has been my choice to stay.”

“Except when it hasn’t.”

Alfred’s brow furrowed and he glanced at Sakura. She shrugged. “I’ve been here for most of the conversations.”

“Great. Well, anyway. He glanced back at his brother and kicked him not quite gently under the table. “Did you call them demi golems?”

“Isn’t that what they are?”

Alfred laughed, “No!”

“They’re deigols, Matthew. DAY- GOALS,” Sakura said and waved her spoon at them. 

“I think it would have been easier if he had ended up being a cult leader,” Matt muttered into his soup. “Fuck this is spicy,”

“This is kid level spice,” Sakura called back. 

Alfred laughed and spent the rest of the afternoon with the two of them wandering the grounds and looking through the rest of the building. He didn’t see Jerome, Aditya, or Ivan until hours later when they were all piled up in the sofas on the porch, looking out at the willow trees swaying in the distance. Sakura was typing on her phone as Matthew and Alfred talked about matters that were inconsequential and easy. 

“You appear to be doing much better,” Aditya said with a pleasant smile. 

“Yeah, I feel a lot better. Head still smarts, but I can live with it.”

Jerome stepped forward with a paper bag with a pill bottle of medication. “This is only good for a few doses. You can take over the counter stuff like Advil after that. If you feel worse, go see a clinic in the city. I don’t think your concussion will be worse, but that’s something to look out for.”

“We’ll keep an eye on it,” Matthew said. Alfred glanced at Ivan and stood up, accepting his hand for help. 

“Are we going back?” He asked. 

“Yes,” Ivan looked back to Aditya and Jerome. “Thank you for your help gentlemen.”

“Tell Yao to come visit me. He owes me another game!” Aditya said with a bright smile. 

“I will tell him. Thank you for your hospitality,” Sakura said with a bow. 

The cat by Jerome’s feet left up onto a nearby table and began to lick it’s paw. Then with rapt attention, its tail began to swing like a metronome and a shimmer appeared before them. Like an invisible seam ripper, a hole between the two realities appeared and Alfred found himself staring at the steps of Matthew’s apartment building. “Are you ready?” Ivan asked. 

“Yeah,” Alfred said and thanked the two healers again, before Sakura took his hand and lead him through the tear. 

It felt like walking under water, with pressure denting his skin from all sides. He gasped as they left the tear, taking a deep breath of warm and bitter city air. Ivan and Matthew stepped through as well, but Matthew was by Alfred’s side in a instant. “How’re you feeling? Something wrong?”

“He travels through rifts differently,” Ivan said. 

“You didn’t do well with the portal, now that I think of it,” Sakura added. 

Alfred waved them all off. Mother hens, all of them. He looked up at the pink sky and straightened himself. “Weird. That’s all.”

Matthew took a step up and Sakura leaned against the railing. Alfred walked over to Ivan who stood a few feet away under a street light. “I am sharing the apartment with Francis and Arthur.”

Alfred nodded. “I–” he stopped and tightened his fingers into a loose fist. “I wanted to stay with Matt anyway. I don’t know if I’m ready just yet.” He put his hand on Ivan’s shoulder. “Just give me a little bit, okay?”

Something indiscernible flashed through Ivan’s eyes, but he smiled and brushed his fingers through Alfred’s hair, pushing the locks away from his eyes. “Of course.” His hand fell, resting on Alfred’s shoulder and then he pulled away, turning to walk down the dark city block. 

“Hold on,” Alfred mumbled, pulling him by his sleeve and stilling him. Alfred looked up at the Magician before him, kissing him gently on his cheek. “Good night. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Good Night, Alfred,” Ivan said and finally walked away. 

Alfred stood still. The wind shivered through the trees. “Come on Al, let’s go to bed.”

“Okay.” Alfred followed his brother and Sakura up the stairs until they were in the apartment. Alfred glanced around. His stuff was still strewn about. It looked like he had only left yesterday. 

“There’s going to be a watch outside until we decide what to do with the threat of the deigols. Good night,” and she was gone with a flash of light from her phone. 

Matthew locked the door and Alfred gave him a halfhearted smile before walking silently into the guest room and closing the door. He rolled onto the mattress, covering his eyes with his arm and swallowed back hot and salty tears. He fell asleep. 

_**He stood in the middle of a crater of scorched earth standing in front of a lean and twisted creature, ember tumbling from its mouth like blood. Eyes, electric and red, glared back. Scrambling back, Alfred watched as lightning, hot and electric pink, rocketed through the sky. He tripped back, falling over inky shadows and stared down at outstretched, blood congealed on empty and begging hands. He crawled away, horrified by white and milky dead eyes staring back.** _

_**The creature walked towards him. He could feel the heat even that far away. Nearby, it was like facing an inferno. Wind whipped dust up into his eyes and he cried out as the India ink claw dragged down his arm, opening up veins that bled onto the dusty earth. Black seeped through his body like an infection and pain erupted. He watched in horror and the creature began to sink its claw into his skin, then it’s arm, then it’s shoulder. He watched, paralyzed as it crawled into him slowly, burning his insides as it took over.**_

_**Fully in his body, Alfred could feel the sickening pulse of another heartbeat. He scratched at the wound, trying to force the creature out. Static filled the air. Lightning filled the air. Copper filled his throat. He grabbed his neck. He couldn’t breathe. Fingers scratched for air, ripping skin apart and pulling out veins like wires. No air. Blood dropped to the ground. No air. Choking, his fingers quested further, delving past soft tissue until he painfully bumped bone. He couldn’t breathe.**_

_**Alfred fell to the ground and watched as the blood falling to the dust turned black. Fire burst from the ground, licking up the inky bodies around him and sending everything ablaze. MINE came the word, spoken like a god not in the air, but in his mind.**_

_**NO Alfred tried to scream, but fire fell out. Under the will of the creature in his bones, Alfred turned and found himself staring at Ivan, helping up Matthew, and Arthur. Francis lay on the ground with Sakura nearby. Faces of friends stood behind them. Alfred held out his hand.** _

_**RUN he tried to scream. Ivan turned to him, his name on his lips, and fire burst forth, burning everyone in front of him until there was nothing but charred bone.**_

 

Alfred woke up with a scream.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still in awe of how wonderful this is! [Raindrops-on-summerday](http://raindrops-on-summerday.tumblr.com) drew an amazing picture on Tumblr, [check it out here!](http://raindrops-on-summerday.tumblr.com/post/155991325872/iridulcentdays-im-finally-done-im-very-very)


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